Posture

I wake to find all I was is gone in an instant.

No longer the unreliable narrator,

the fuckup, the addict.

No longer deceived by my own

charred conscience.

-

As I stand, staring down the ravaged,

flesh-peeled reflection in the mirror,

a strange sensation stirs me,

gives me pause.

-

No shame, no pain, no longer stained.

By blood, piss, vaginal residue and cum.

-

The burden has shifted,

so much that I feel I’m missing

something.

-

As my posture straightens,

not regret, the plaything of the past,

not the hangover of bad decisions—

something different,

uncharted territory.

-

As a smile cracks my face,

I no longer curse my manhood,

no longer feel the need for ablations,

or to curse my vice-riddled libido.

-

Control of self.

Unexpected glory.

Thanks for reading

Author's Notes: This is for the wonderful Tanya Lei's Unofficial Challenge: Who do you Actually want to Be?