Frigid gun

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Her right hand
formed like a gun
two of the five fingers
erect
side by side
Glued together like lovers
who couldn’t quite let go
Partners in crime

Her lips
dry
pale
shaking
It has told so many lies
to survive

Her legs
folded neatly
like her secrets

Her knees
cold and aching

Her hair
with waves
that remind you of
the first time you swam in the ocean
tied up like a convict

Her breathing
heavier
than the weight
of her guilt

Her tears
raindrops
pitter-pattering
on your rooftop
“Let me in,” it says

Her back
bent
from all the questions
she still hasn’t found
the answers to
forming a bridge
to run away from herself
but she always comes back
Tired

She loads the gun
opens her mouth
and pulls the trigger
Her throat complains
but she thinks
it’s better than the guilt
of what she’s become
Her gun doesn’t kill her
It does not make her bleed
Instead it makes her spill
everything
she had the night before
and she thinks she’s doing herself
a favor

The water
running
from the faucet
muffling
the cackling of her demons
is her accomplice
The clock strikes three.

Her body parts
sing her a lullaby
“You’re beautiful”
“You’re enough”
But she only hears
the retreating footsteps
of the men
who never saw her
for what she truly is
only what they want her to be

I hug her
while the setting sun
paints our skin gold
We hear the breeze whisper
“You’re beautiful”
“You’re enough”
We don’t say a word
but I know
right then and there
she decided to start fighting
the monsters back.

June 23, 2017

(Alexandria M. Mordeno is an incoming third year Political Science student at Mindanao State University-Iligan Institute of Technology. She loves Manga and other Japanese stuff.)

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