My best friend breaks her arm as she falls from my trampoline.
The school kids laugh at my hand-me-down uniform.
Nurses feed a friend charcoal to throw up all the pills she just swallowed.
I am every book on my bookshelf.

Warm cookies.
The lips of my first love.
I am bitter drugs and the burn of hard liquor.

Scraped knees.
Holding hands.
Hot tea burns my mouth.
Unwanted touches from malicious fingers.
Razor blades.
My mother's body shakes the first time I try to kill myself.
I am the scratch of the tattoo gun as it carves meaning into my skin.

Songbirds, fires, pop music.
Hospital machinery whirr.
I am laughter and library silence.

Fresh hot cross buns.
The ocean and the snow.
I am strawberry perfume.

Add the ones and carry the 10s.
Look both ways before you cross the road.
I am “wear your keys as a weapon and run”.

Two dogs and a white picket fence.
Travel the world.
I walk down the aisle of the church my parents married in.