Something Tactile

I was looking for something tactile

I remember the tile was always cold so

as anxiety rose like bile to my throat, my cheeks,

I laid my body down as though to sleep.

I heard you pause right outside the bathroom door

I wasn't quiet, I'm sure you heard me moan but

You kept walking and I learned that day that emotions didn't matter, best to tuck them away -

Instead, I kept looking for something tactile

Because there was no point in having anything to say

No point in giving emotions a name

If the people you love look away -

I still look for the tactile

Even though I know it's okay

To say when I'm not okay

parents will mess you up won't they

when they unintentionally make tile your only source of solace

while saying you're strong, you'll be okay -

I am as strong as tile today and just as easily cracked

Keeping my pieces together with

omega 3s

therapy

squeezing cats

hugging trees

cuts on fingertips from metal guitar strings

cuts from paper, rope burn from yarn in pursuit of a pipe dream art career damn near tangible

From comforters providing heat so tangible it's suffocating, watching rivulets of sweat on my arms dance

Treasuring every hug because they feel like acceptance

Lips swollen from kisses, release without shattering

without tile meeting the head of a hammer

without feet finding the edge of a cliff

without bleach finding its way down my throat

without head underwater lungs screaming for drought

stop -

I am so strong until I'm not

I'd think you'd understand

because I think you're just like me

lookit there, it's generational, how sweet

I look just like you, mom

except I've started speaking

it's a big step for me

But I think...I'll always need something tactile.