Thoughts at a party

I went to a party
and I was alone

parties make me cry
and nobody likes the girl who cries at parties

I'm not very good at karaoke
and I have emotional breakdowns when I can't do something perfectly

I lay on the trampoline all by myself
and looked up at the sky and the edges of the willow tree

I could hear everyone singing inside
and did not know who I was for a minute

The compost has brought in fruit flies
which hovered around the food, half drowning themselves in salad dressing

my home became not my home, my living room overtaken by strangers
who don't notice when i leave for an hour to read my book in the park

I only three sentences, all of which I had read before
since I was too busy thinking of my social ineptitude

the sky is difficult to live up to
and I feel as though I have to clear my blood

regenerate my entire body
each time I am surrounded by so many loud people I do not know

why am I so delicate
why are my limits so close to the bone compared to others

The city frightens me
there are so many people I'll never exist for

I lose myself in everyone else's mothertongue
my own being so untranslatable

I am told to make my own family
orphan in this world that I am

but my nerves stop at the tips of my fingers
and will not reach any further

out of myself
even out of this skin I am still inside sinews and muscles

bones structured to be upright
joins inflexible, unoffering

there is no perfection in what I am
and my imperfections are not beautiful

they are torn seams and ripped moments
askew and faltering along impeccably badly

I have been through so many deaths
and these ashes have so few sparks left

in these night all the birds have gone to sleep
in their unreachable nests, tending to tender eggs

all my skin is bruised
and no one bothers to bring me a new compress to reduce the swelling

no one sits by my side as I slip away feverishly
or sweat in broken dreams and splintered memories

sewing oneself back together is a solitary business
and the salt of the sea is always staining the hem of my skirt

my fingers are needled pricked with no callouses made
each stab is a new drop of my heart dripping into careless air

too much of my own caked blood on my wedding dress
I will never wear it by his side

All of the fabric piled around me
he will not sift through to find the simple gauze of my voice

my heart chambered and hollowed
spaces he doesn't want to fill

why was I chosen to be broken?