Score |
827
That’s Everything
<p>Look at me!</p><p><br/></p><p>I used to be a foot. Now I’m a fist. A clenched thing pushed into a satin box. The shoe is my coffin. I live in it. I will die in it. And I will thank her for every second.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>My knuckle left first. Just packed up and moved sideways one day, grew a little hill where there used to be a valley. The doctor called it a bunion. She said nothing. Just pushed me back into the box and went on pointe. </p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>My big toe nail has been dead for three years. It hangs on anyway. Little gray tombstone. The others are dying too. They’ll all be ghosts soon.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>The skin left months ago. Maybe years. I don’t track time anymore. Where skin used to be, there’s just meat. Raw meat pressed against raw satin. The shoe and I are married now. We share everything. Her weight. Her sweat. Her blood.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>When she goes up on me and I feel every torn thing in me screaming, her face is calm. Like she’s somewhere else. Like the pain is hers and mine and ours and she’s not running from it. She’s using it. She’s using me. </p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>And I want to be used.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>I want to be the thing she breaks so she can be beautiful. I want to hold all her weight on my open meat and my grinding bones and my dead nails and I want to say, Yes. More. Again. </p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>Because when she’s up there, when she’s spinning, I’m the reason. I’m the thing she stands on. I’m the sacrifice that she makes and I don’t care if it hurts. I care that she needs me. I want to be ground to dust one pirouette at a time.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>At night, the girl takes the coffin off slowly. She holds me in her hands. She touches my broken knuckle, my open meat, my dead nails. She touches everywhere that hurts. And she cries. Not loud. The kind where the whole body shakes and no sound comes out. And she whispers, I know. I know. I’m sorry. </p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>She knows.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>Today, she’ll tape me shut, shove me back into the satin coffin and she will rise. The meat will tear. The bones will grind. The dead nails will press against the box like they’re trying to get out. They won’t. I won’t let them. </p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>I am her right foot. I am the fist she clenches so she doesn’t fall. </p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>I will hold her until there’s nothing left of me to hold her with. </p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p> That’s all I was ever for.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>That’s everything.</p><p><br/></p>
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