Confessions

i’ll have you know that i don’t listen to my ancestors 
i’m enamored with my lineage
& i don’t understand what all i’ve inherited, aside from my breath
& i’m still not sure if i’ve wasted it. 

i was a baby in a crib, fists closing around each other.
i was a child running into open arms. 
i was growing but not grown the first time i promised forever.
i was a thing on the table, prepared to be dissected. 

i’m every version of myself that i’ve killed off in order to make room for more. 
i’m not gonna call myself a murderer 
but i’m hunting down all the parts of myself that i want dead. 
i’m tired of extending mercy. 

i’ll have you know that when i speak of ancestors, i’m speaking of ghosts. 
when i speak of lineage, i’m talking about the blood in my veins. 
& when i speak of inheritance, i’m not talking about anything earned.
i’m just trying to put language to all the things i’ve had to survive.

i create a list & make sure to put my name at the top.