The satin lace snakes up my waist,
Restraining, constricting with every loophole,
The menacing chant ordering me to hold it all in, grows louder.
I bite my lip, tasting blood.
My hands are cool as I dig my nails into my clammy palms, so hard that the whites of my knuckles show.
I close my eyes,
Wincing every time the blazing fiery string singes my back,
And I try.
I try to will my body to accept this constraint,
To readily allow this bodice to constrict myself into submission,
To deny the breath of life,
And the flow of blood, and soul,
But I can’t.
I reach behind me, to rip these loathsome laces of my self,
Freeing, liberating with every loophole,
And I no longer hear their voices governing me,
No more chanting, no more changing.
Just stillness and sovereignty.
Then finally I open my eyes and realise,
I can breathe.