How to hold a ceasefire

how to hold a ceasefire

There are parts of me that seek to kill other
parts of me and that is the first way
I learned violence. 

I learned de-escalation from 
the part of me that demanded love and 
the part of me that demanded silence. 

The first would be settled by nothing 
but noise and noise and noise. 

The one who demanded love 
sounded like a giggle and a gunshot. 

The one who craved silence 
sounded like outer space packed inside a suitcase—about to rip 
open and consume us all. 

The one who wanted love sounded like mania, 
like the spider-webbing of a glass door and the steps taken away from it.

The tired one looked like 
TV static and the swinging
of a corded phone off the hook. 

The first sounded like an alarm and the second
like electricity running through power lines. 

I spend my days looking in both directions at once 
and sewing white flags by hand.

Taylor Rossics is a writer from central Maine. She is currently based out of Burlington and writes about the discomfort that comes from having a body and love gone sour. Her work can be found in places such as littledeathlit, salt + vinegar zine, and The River Online. 

Artwork by Simone Hadebe