My Recovery’s Beating Heart
by Molly A. Green
They deprived me—of the power to draw my truth from reality
They demanded—that i accept my friend as a demon
They said, “bake him into a pie, slay him in one swallow”
so i kissed him goodbye when i fed on his smile
They think to let go all you need is bare hands
They don’t know of his fingerprints on the walls of my fantasy
They watch when i thumb through this chapter as fantasy
when paper cuts bleed onto pages—now read as reality
how could i hurt so heavily in safe hands?
They weigh the heart though the mind is the demon
and as bitter as i seem, i’m the sugar in their smile
i watch as i crumble with each bite They swallow
i steal a sip of hope with the first pill i swallow
when the well is low, i remedy with the fantasy
when the willowy landscapes of my skin would smile
as my limbs wept, shade crept, winter waxed to reality:
the pathway, ablaze, to my core, the door of the demon
i’ll burn once more behind… the opening, closing of his hands
i grow through the roots of my palms to practice willing hands
my life line’s hardest to follow; heart line’s hardest to swallow
i choke on my medicine and yowl like a little demon
i throw my fits, sigh with fire—a little girl bit by reality
but They douse each breath and plant a seed in my fantasy
i grow (to accept) with the soft sun of a half-smile
the water in my mouth freezes; He taunts me with a sly smile
i beg him, “wipe it off!” behind the hungry flames of clenched hands
but the dimples in his cheeks are shadows of reality
and the corners of his grin are lifted when i swallow
They figure i could fix this, redefine the fantasy
yet acceptance is a two-way street; He’s more than a demon
He’s the lifeblood in the poison—a reason, not a demon
his wings were the warmth, numbing my chattering teeth to a smile
albeit my truth may only foster me as fantasy
He was the one thing to hold close; i’ll miss his claws in my hands
for sharpening his horns meant one less word to swallow
He lived in my mind so long, my heartbeat to his reality
to let go (of a demon) all you need is love and bare hands
as i gave them the key, their smile gave him nothing to swallow
We lay to rest the tired fantasy; I wake up to accept reality
They demanded—that i accept my friend as a demon
They said, “bake him into a pie, slay him in one swallow”
so i kissed him goodbye when i fed on his smile
They think to let go all you need is bare hands
They don’t know of his fingerprints on the walls of my fantasy
They watch when i thumb through this chapter as fantasy
when paper cuts bleed onto pages—now read as reality
how could i hurt so heavily in safe hands?
They weigh the heart though the mind is the demon
and as bitter as i seem, i’m the sugar in their smile
i watch as i crumble with each bite They swallow
i steal a sip of hope with the first pill i swallow
when the well is low, i remedy with the fantasy
when the willowy landscapes of my skin would smile
as my limbs wept, shade crept, winter waxed to reality:
the pathway, ablaze, to my core, the door of the demon
i’ll burn once more behind… the opening, closing of his hands
i grow through the roots of my palms to practice willing hands
my life line’s hardest to follow; heart line’s hardest to swallow
i choke on my medicine and yowl like a little demon
i throw my fits, sigh with fire—a little girl bit by reality
but They douse each breath and plant a seed in my fantasy
i grow (to accept) with the soft sun of a half-smile
the water in my mouth freezes; He taunts me with a sly smile
i beg him, “wipe it off!” behind the hungry flames of clenched hands
but the dimples in his cheeks are shadows of reality
and the corners of his grin are lifted when i swallow
They figure i could fix this, redefine the fantasy
yet acceptance is a two-way street; He’s more than a demon
He’s the lifeblood in the poison—a reason, not a demon
his wings were the warmth, numbing my chattering teeth to a smile
albeit my truth may only foster me as fantasy
He was the one thing to hold close; i’ll miss his claws in my hands
for sharpening his horns meant one less word to swallow
He lived in my mind so long, my heartbeat to his reality
to let go (of a demon) all you need is love and bare hands
as i gave them the key, their smile gave him nothing to swallow
We lay to rest the tired fantasy; I wake up to accept reality
Molly A. Green is an emerging young writer from Western Pennsylvania who has been published in the literary journal Pulp. She is most interested in poetry as a platform to share her heart and mind with the world. Outside of writing, Molly enjoys drawing graphite portraits of people who inspire her.