To Love A Frankenstein

Last night I had the privilege to perform at the first Perth Slam of the year, and took home second place with this poem.
 
To Love A Frankenstein
 
It took three weeks of living with Peter
for him to see me naked;
It took him two to see me depressed;
only one for him to catch me
on one of those bad days
where I’d forgot
how to smile –
and he spent that day
trying to stitch my mouth
back into the right shape.
 
Living with me can’t be easy.
 
I wonder sometimes
whether it’s like
living with
Frankenstein’s monster –
there’s always this chance
you’ll wake up
and find
my brains on the floor;
 
But this isn’t a poem
about being depressed –
this isn’t a poem about
being crippled by my mental health;
this is a poem about healing.
 
This is a poem about how
this morning Peter
asked me
how I was –
and when I told him
I felt alive
he smiled at me.
 
This is a poem about how
you don’t have to have a sad story
to perform poetry;
don’t have to
bleed up on stage
for someone to care about you –
That you don’t have to die
for people to remember
for people to click
or care.
 
This is a poem
about coming back together;
about the ball of yarn
we used
to stitch close my skin
and decide that I wasn’t going
to do that anymore;
 
And this is a poem
about how that’s more important
than winning some fucking slam.

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