Your Body

precious things, given to you once, should be cherished.

Your Body
By: G. A. Montero

            Hi! I’m your ears! I hear everything that circles around you in the world. You don’t remember, but when you were first born, I heard the beautiful chimes of your parents’ voices surrounding you like a blanket. Hey! I’m your mouth. I spoke the words of the love that blossomed in your mind to your family. Don’t you remember? Telling your mom how much you loved her before you ran off to school, or saying good bye to your dad as you stepped into the car with a few friends? Hello, I’m your eyes. I’m the one who captured every fleeting expression that appeared on the faces of the people in front of you. I saw your daddy’s eyes as you stood proudly before your first grade class holding the winning story you wrote. I also saw that faint blush and glance aimed towards you from the person you so admired. Isn't that funny? Nice to meet you. I’m your hands. I held onto your mother’s hand while you walked into that new school for the first time " hers was grasped around yours tightly. Or at that middle school dance, when you finally had the courage, and once on the floor, your hands couldn't stop shaking due to nervousness and excitement. I wish it were like that again. Greetings. I’m your feet. I helped you learn the ability to bike, as you hesitantly used me to press the pedals. Remember your friend’s 10^th birthday party? Trampolines couldn't have been more fun, as you used me with all your might to help you try and reach the heavens. We’re your body. We’re what keeps you together. Why are you pulling us apart? I’m your ears… I heard every cuss word, every insult, aimed at your perfect face. I heard the dark whispers behind your back, laced with bitterness and hate. I’m your feet. I used to help you run in track. But now, all I’m used for is the sprinting route you take straight from the school and home. The demons at your heels follow you with hurtful words and you run like the wind…tiring yourself out… I’m your hands. I’ve felt every wall of your house, every table, every chair, every pencil you use each night, and every piece of clothing you have in your closet. When I felt the knob of your bathroom door underneath me, I could do nothing but turn it and lock it Then I turned again, for a new knob… just above the sink. Never before has such a familiar feeling felt so disgusting. I’m your mouth. A mouth that used to be active. One that simply overflowed with greetings, farewells, compliments, critiques, and even advice. But now you’ve kept me shut. Every day, nothing more than a few words. Every night, just the sound of sobbing passes through me. How do you think I felt when I started to feel the smooth, destructive feelings of the pills slide past your lips, trembling along with your tongue, and sliding down your throat? Hi. I’m your eyes. We liked paintings, don’t you remember? Trips to the museum were fun. Lately, I haven’t seen any more paintings. I wonder why… I don’t understand… Why did you and I see a black haze clouding over me that night? Why was I only barely able to see the door rattling ferociously as it kept you locked away from your parents? Why did the last thing we had to see was a peeling bathroom roof that held no resemblance to a work of art? We were your body. We kept you together. Why did you tear yourself apart?