Sir, this is a Wendy’s

Onindita Sarker Onadi

Contains themes of self-harm and abuse.
Reader discretion is advised.

As I pluck thorns out of my
Broken body,
Filled with bee stings and hands
And liquid gold;
I levitate on top of the ocean that is you
Refusing to be devoured again.

Yet my hands are weak;
My legs are cramped;
My audacious mind is running to places I cannot fathom.
But I refuse to drown in you,
Or get eaten alive.
I refuse to beg for your love
Or anyone else’s.
For I am worthy of love
And I will be loved.

Sir, This is a Wendy's - Illustration for Onadi

Drops of blood on the floor.
Like a hibiscus, in full bloom..
Scattered, in the aftermath of all we had.
In the homilies and hymns
Of the blissful silence,
The marks on my skin
Self-inflicted bruises and battle scars
Shaped in a perfect blossom
Remind me that I am alive.
I am alive with you,
And without you.

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