I’m not quite sure
What I’m doing here

What does it matter?
Why do I matter?

How is this the river mouth of my tears?
Are these the consequences of my actions?

What would it be like if things were different?
Why couldn’t things be different?

What does it matter?
Why do I matter?

Do I matter?
Why?

I’m not complaining, really
Just questioning.

Being able to stand at the bedside
Of that woman who
hurt
            hurt
                        hurt
you at your most vulnerable

And kiss her cheek while she is
hurt
            hurt
                        hurt
and at her most vulnerable

Is incredibly commendable.

I wish I remembered.
Only then would I have an excuse
to not forgive.

Forgetting
is not unexperiencing.
Its being left with a lingering reminisce,
a senseless dread,
a dull ache
that you can't find the source of.

I wish I remembered
so that I can hate you
without hating myself.

Because it feels like you did so much
while doing nothing at all.

But I know you did.
I know you hurt me,
I know you hurt me.

I just can't quite
remember.

Good dogs listen

Bad dogs bite

Hurt dogs
cower
whine
bite
and listen

Who are you?

Immovable ponytail
School hoodie
Rectangle glasses.

Obnoxious laughing
Oblivious, blunt
Complete idiot.

Niche interests
Fictional men
Cat pictures.

Motherly, Childish
Protective,
Silly.

Passionate
Empathetic
Loving.

Off-p­utting art
Little trinket gifts
Poetry.

…
Who are you?

Thirty Nine,
Itsy bitsy.

Yeah, thats you.

I don’t have myself in me
My insides are hollow and dull
My mind is foggy gray
And my heart is a darkened ash

I don’t have poetry in me
My words have run dry
My language has lost its depth
And I can’t find how to end this stanza