Sarah Apollonia — Sarah Apollonia

Vessel

I wish I could write about fire in a way that doesn’t burn. I wish I could take your hurt and make it less sharp, round the edges so that you didn’t need to use this sweet thing we call force. I’ve been writing this same story since sixteen but it never gets less blunt. It never gets less true. You could tell them anything, and they still wouldn’t believe.

I know I’ve survived. I know I should be grateful when each new day emerges and you remain obscure as ever. But tonight, I laid wide awake thinking of outcomes where I didn’t. A million different worlds, spinning and colliding into each other. In each one, I felt you move within me. In this life, I saw it too. I remember how I had to look away so I wouldn’t see something human in your eyes. Maybe this is what saved me.

I write because there’s no other way. What else will we do with the time given to us? What else will we do when there’s no other proof of perseverance besides our own broken bodies? When all that we have left to show for ourselves are new aversions. An attempt to sanctify what’s left. A graceless and burdenless exit. Quietness.

They say we allow it all