I Want My Bones Back!

I want my bones back! 

I want you to lick my wounds into soft skin again,

make me whole in all the places you split me open. 

You stole more than time—

you carved hours from my body like wood,

You stole more than love—

you swallowed it, spit it back up as silence.

The teen in me is still on fire.

She stomps through the hollow halls of my arteries,

her fists slam against the walls of my chest.

Your name is the smoke that clogs my throat,

your memory—a spark that scorches my ribs.

You crumbled my skin like old paper,

picked your teeth with my femurs.

Like Dexter, you kept me as a trophy—

a momentum to your madness.

I want my bones back.

I want the shine back in my eyes,

the innocence you robbed under dim streetlights

and behind closed doors where no one listened.

My teeth are not a necklace

for you to wear like pride.

My spine is not a ladder

for you to climb and leave behind.

I was a home—

not your crime scene.

I want every piece of me you pocketed,

every echo of my voice you smothered.

I want my bones back—

and this time,

you don’t get to keep

a single fragment.

Because I found her—

that girl with scraped knees and a lion’s heart.

She was buried in the ashes you left behind,

but I dug her out with my bare hands.

One by one, I pieced her back together—

knucklebone, shoulder blade, tooth.

I stitched fire into her spine

and taught her how to stand taller than the wreckage.

You don’t get to name her pain anymore.

She belongs to herself.

And now—

she dances through my bloodstream,

laughing like thunder,

free in her body,

whole in her soul.

I got my bones back.

And they’re stronger than ever.