the ball of yarn

i can’t think too much about the lost friendships or else i’ll rip out my hair, claw out my eyes, tear out every fiber of them that’s sewn into my skin & sternum & blood cells & toss it into blackwood lake & watch them sink like virginia woolf & the stones in her pockets. i can’t think too much about the vases i broke or the picture frames they packed away or the saltines we both crushed in our palms. i can’t think or the ball of yarn i keep tightly wound in my ribcage will unwind itself, slither up my trachea, & strangle me in the night like a boa constrictor. i can’t think about the prosciutto sandwiches on 4th & b, i can’t think about the aimless walks through chinatown, i can’t think about lavender hair dancing on the millennium bridge. i can’t think of walls covered in jonas brothers posters, or cigarettes on stoops at 2 am, or marvel marathons, or home movies shot in my basement on my mom’s camcorder. i can’t think of falling asleep in your bed with a spliff still between my fingers or telling stories in the crawl space while a chicken squawked nearby. i cannot think of intertwining tongues for strange men on omegle or for the strange man in my bed. i cannot think of new year’s steaks, or feeding cats, or lap dances in a red lit studio. i cannot think of all of you without the crushing weight of all the love i haven’t been able to give to you. of all the love still bundled up inside of me. it’s been you & it’s been me, but i’m still stuck on us. so i wind the threads tightly, tightly, round themselves so they can’t come undone. i wind them up & down & up & over, i wind them til i drown. stones in pockets, my stone of yarn, dragging dragging down & down. there’s a part of me & she stands guard, she keeps it tightly wound. & i know if the fraying begins that i will end somehow. every secret i’ve protected, every feeling i’ve clutched dear. everything would fly like shrapnel, shred me at my seams. the me we’ve all come to know would surely cease to be. i cannot think too much about disappointment, betrayal, drifting away. i cannot think about what life gave me & how i gave it all away. so i cannot think about our blood meeting & how many friends i wished would be more. i cannot think about how you never loved me or cared if i died. i cannot think about how you loved me & how i still left you aside. i cannot think about where you left, when i left, all the mistakes each one of us has made. the platonic sensuality, the ache of what once was, the feeling of all of your skin on mine, in shared beds, in tongues, in hugs. secrets are foundation, secrets build up, secrets unravel, the secrets gave up. i am fragile, thin strands, tied in clove hitch knots. the warden presides, the warden she lies, she’ll do what it takes to keep it all stuck. i cannot think of it, i cannot come undone. the orca on my rib cage, the whales at cape cod, the solitary confinement, the sentence that i serve, the stitches in my sternum, the voice box that i ate, the incantations recitations, the shattered porcelain plates. silver spoons, broken cots, macaroni garlic bread, i cannot think these thoughts. i want you to forgive me. i want to forgive you. i want to open up, sober up, accept that this is just growing up. but i see all the others & how they hold theirs for so long & wonder what is ill with me that i’ve done it all so wrong. so many times, i’ve done it too many. it’s such a pity, such a shame. i can’t hold on to any of you but the ball pit remains. i’m so good at the hold, at the grip, at the clutch. yet let you all slip away right from my touch. so i wind the memories, the sensations in the ball. i hold onto all of you, i’m made up of you all. i’ll see you in my dreams, each & every night. if i can’t breathe you in, at least i can hold the thought of you tight.