Perfect

Perfect

Growing up in the womb

of someone else’s aborted dream

until the umbilical fills me up

and crowds me out

leaving only the maternal desire

now mine

What I would’ve wanted

tries to seep out

and I scratch scratch scratch it away

I’ll dance on my broken bones

over and over

before I bow

I don’t need to know

who I am

touching it

is all I want

and when I do

I’ll fall right through

for there is nothing

can be nothing

after being

perfect

October 6, 2014

Tressa Lee Breen

Inspired by OctPoWriMo2014 Day 6 prompt: Perfect.

Image from the movie "Black Swan" (image distorted by me using iPhoto), used without permission, with no credit taken, no profit made, and no offense intended.