Inside

Inside I’d say, don’t please.
Grit my teeth. Bite the pillow.
You pulled me to the place
where everything went numb, hollow.
I’d lose my voice.
Grit my teeth. Bite the pillow.
Inside I’d say, don’t please.
High on the wall, I’d watch your shadow
turn against me — shape of a storm.
My own heart, broken like bones.
I’d wish at night for tomorrow
When I might wash you away and sorrow
would leave me alone, alone.
Nothing washed you away.
You, underneath my skin.
That smell, that voice, that hollow.
My own heart, broken like bones.

— Jackie Kay