butterflies in my ribcage

So, I'm not promising many poems for NaPo, as I am horribly slow at writing and even slower at poeting. My goal for NaPo is five poems.

The theme is exploring my disability and how it's affected my past, present, and future.

always mourning, never moving on

I tow my past with me,
a heavy weight resisting
when I try to move on
from my trauma.

I carry my past with me,
in a carefully crafted basket,
woven not with love
but with delicately tied knots
ever fearful of being torn apart
by memories wrought
out of trauma

I leave my past when I
forget the details and mistake
the memories for dreams.
left at abandoned bus stops,
behind worn closet hangers,
past dusty winter windows.

But the past always comes back up,
when I least expected it
when I might have moved on
when I have mended
my brittle body

but

my past returns,
an ex lover demanding
memories
that were never theirs

my past ruins,
a second hand car
with the brakes cut out

my past reminds,
a death sentence,
handpicked for me
before my birth.

Forever mending, the past always
breaks

I cannot escape my past
until I bury the part of me that died there