final girl (draft)
this is a draft. i have the concept, but i’m still working on what i want this to be and where i want it to go.
two years now since i survived that bloody spring. i barely made it out of april alive. stumbling into a deep-red summer, my own guts were in my hand as my prize. oh, how i carved the final wound right into that broken, loveless chest. how the blood splattered my face in baptism while yours was hidden by that not-so-perfect mask. i saw through those cracks. i see them even now. every streaked-mirror-reflection is a reminder. every hand wash is a cleanse i can’t complete. i scrub myself raw, but can’t quite remove the traces. there are bodies i’ve not yet buried. there is guilt i don’t know how to name. how do i forgive myself for all the versions of me that i let die when i this is the one that out alive? how can i be the hero with this much blood on my hands? i may have delivered the final blow, but i felt it in my own chest a thousandfold. i am not a savior. i am only the final girl. and the story may be mine to tell, but that doesn’t mean anyone has to listen.
2 thoughts on "final girl (draft)"
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THIS!!! (and all leading up to this)
” there is guilt i don’t know how to name. forgive myself for all the versions of me that i let die when i this is the one that out alive?”
(I think maybe the word “left” is supposed to be between “i” and “this” or something? and maybe “got” out alive)- Either way I actually filled in the gaps without noticing anything missing because it made so much sense to me.
Whew, girl. Heavy and beautifully crafted wording.
Would love to see where it goes!
i imagine this was really hard to write. i’m sure it will take a lot of time to heal. good luck my fellow poet. keep writing , it helps.