A Female Liturgy

To exist inside this body
is to rehearse endurance as ritual.

The world claps somewhere nearby
and I am asked to smile
as if my teeth were not filed down
by expectation.

I stand beside my own collapse
taking notes
as ribs loosen
as the mind frays like silk
handled by too many hands.

Sleep circles me like a velvet threat
soft mouthed
promising relief
then tightening its grip
until dread arrives
polite
inevitable.

I have learned how to coil myself smaller
How to turn tension into posture
How to call hunger virtue
and silence grace.

They mistake my wet eyes for surrender.
They call my restraint sweetness.
They do not see the blade work
The constant cutting required
to remain palatable.

Still
I make something from the ache.
Still
I arrange my pain into sound
so laughter might exist at all.

If this is excess
If this is too much blood in the voice
Then let it be known
I arrived undone on purpose
and survived by refusing to quit.