A Smile So Bright

A smile so bright, you'd never bat an eye. But you didn't have a bright smile, fucker. My right shoulder remembers your smile by the way it doesn't fit smoothly in its joint anymore. I bet my right shoulder will be remembering you when I'm eighty, which makes me so angry. Your memory doesn't deserve all the fucking attention my body gives you. Fucker, fucker, with your pathetic, sing-song, loose-folds-of-skin face any woman with standards would've forgotten in a second, not turned towards. It's still a struggle not to hate the vulnerable, unloved part of me who turned towards you, because you were such a beautiful magnet and mirror for the broken version of the empath inside her. 

I feel a tightening in my right side writing this. Thinking this, about me and you. I hate you. My right side pelvis hates you. Abdominal cavity that you have been way too close to, too many times hates you. I abhor you, I disdain you, I resent you, I'm embarrassed ever to have loved you. I'm still trying to forgive my body for loving you and I think my body is still trying to forgive me. 

If I'm honest, I'm not sure my body ever loved you. Our whole relationship was me in a battle with myself – my body saying NO, my mind, tethered to all kinds of narratives like sinking balloons countermanding yes yes yes. I don't know why but everyone else says so, so yes. Because you don't know what you're talking about, body, so yes.

My right shoulder blade aches. Makes its presence known. I'm very sorry, shoulder blade. I'm very sorry, right side, left side, places where my nerves still smolder like coals. I'm sorry for all the abandonment. My sternum feels heavy. I feel the weight dropping, dropping. Like my vibration. That's what you did to me and what you do to me, even now. You with your lying eyes, tragic bone structure and smile so bright, I didn't bat an eye.

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This piece was written in our live Body Writers circle.

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