skeleton hands.

my heart can't remember why she wakes up anymore,
because every time she beats, she beats a dead horse.
she decided she'd rather drown than be found cold in the ground
but the waves might teach her a thing about the beauty of consistency.

my heart was so cold
i drew a bath to pull the warmth to its surface.

i threw out the scale
and wrapped all the mirrors in cotton
so i didn't have to look my insecurities in the eye
and remember their hands that begged for change beneath my skin.

i didn't want to hear their voices
pulling at the emptiness in my stomach
so i covered my ears,
because walls are the only way i learned to defend myself.

i sat on the edge of the tub
and hands pushed me to the water,
hands pulled at my skin and asked for more.

so i gave every whispered "i love you" my mother said
and every knuckle i ever bruised,
every lie i told myself to fall asleep at night
and all the truths i never came to terms with,
all the words carved into the soles of my feet
and every footprint that reads "you are nothing," "you are nothing."

but the water washed away the lines like a baptism
and the warmth ran up my legs
reminding me there was blood in my veins
and my breathing was voluntary.

but there were skeleton hands
wrapped around my heart like a cage,
and i've heard it's hard to kill the wishes of a dead man
and even harder to pry love from his fingers.

and the bathwater couldn't reach my bloodstream
with the bones resting in peace
beneath my rib cage.

so i thought about how many things have hands:
death,
clocks,
police officers,
and frost,
and how many of those hands close instead of open.

and i felt the skeleton hands,
the knotted fingers,
give way
and the water warmed the blood,
and the blood listened.

i heard my heartbeat in my ears louder than the voices:
"you are living,"
"you are living."

and my heart was so warm
my body sings "love," "love," "you are love,"
and i'm starting to believe it.

my hands are broken.
my hands tell a story i wanted to forget,
but even hands can be forgiven with time and warm water.

and i thank the clocks that counted down the seconds til now.