I told you I was
a million times,
counting each repentance
like a lash
taking flight
on the words “I wish”

I wish
that you could see
the mess in my head
when you shook me
like an earthquake
and all my supports
came toppling
down; I wish
that you,
drunkardly passed out
on the couch,
could have heard my cries
when I finally
felt safe enough
to tell you everything

For a figment
you are still so
and laborious
and make my arms
weak and tired,
but then I remember
that you
have to carry
yourself too,
and you must
be exhausted

Storybooks only teach us
happy endings —
they don’t teach us
how to lift
this inexorable weight

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s