living backwards

Words are the tears on your face. a quivering cheek, expression mute. Not even a pen captures the truth. A voice echoes from your slippery phone, sounds of empathy and support muffled by your waxed ear. Hearing only what you want to hear, seeing only what you want to see. control. insights slapped back and tattoed all over your body, your own ruthless words. stomach a baby’s grip. An ironic whimper, thoughts of a strong woman.