The Weight

Lately I have felt pain that I can’t even wish

on those who ruined the word love for me.

At times, I’m a happier version of me—

Others, a hole the size of my whole body

swallows me up from inside.

It squeezes me tightly, and holds me still

as a symphony of malicious voices

echo in my own head.

I could go forever without blinking

when I feel like this.

I don’t have to pay a dime to watch

the ceilings dance from my position on the floor.

Instead, I stare at the chalky specks for hours

while they morph and blend into one another

and question the sanity of my sober mind.

Other times, it scares me how comfortable

I am with this happier me.

I know I will never escape the demons

inherited from what seems like a past life.

Yet I allow myself to feel things I cursed myself

for ever feeling before.

You and I build memories to encase in glass,

to represent the fragility of the word love.

-m.k