Painted Smile

When I read the prompt below, gleaned from the book Geographies of Home by Loida Maritza Perez in the substack article The Complexity of Identified Oppression by I felt it perfectly describes why I started writing again. This is the very essence of my therapy writing journey.

My repressed past had been building up and up and up for my entire life essentially, and I am now dealing with the aftermath of all of those memories crashing down in a vast, messy pile.

Every piece I write serves to pull a bit of debris from the pile and set the mess straight while simultaneously connecting me with the world in a way I find difficult when I try and express myself any other way. Writing is my lifeline, my ladder to the stars, and my bridge to cross the seemingly endless expanse I never imagined I would breech.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedPainted SmileHollow chestlike a porcelain dollthe old creepy kind with the open headstiff wig covering thehollow, cavernous accessto the soulless shape of a girlinstead of living her own real lifeshe's toted around in a basketcryptic notes detailing daysnever chosen, only proximally lived slipped under loosening curlssquashed down inside an unflinching body until paper's fused all mashed and bulgingher fragile china torsoin danger of explodingpressure sendschips and chunkscrashing to the groundin a skin-rending pile on the bedroom rugnow, this cursed wad of memories must be carefully unraveledcurly letters untangledeach scrap pinned to the fortune boardto be burned when the winddies downevery razor sharp shard cataloged for an expert hand to reassemble like a puzzle with epoxy, repaintingtill she's good as new

K.B. Silver