“There’s a strange stalker in my chest, walking fast, unable to rest.”

And how you know it,
feel it every day,
sleep with its weight
as your comfort and dismay.
A blanket of shame to wrap yourself in;
another way to get warm,
another game to play.
Sleep alone and sleep thin
thoughts, weave them into dreams
until you feel distraught.
You
killed
a child
you
didn’t
want,
moved away back to Vermont.

the worst part of any wound
is receiving it,
don’t let anybody
lie to you,
including
yourself.

the pain is only as bad
as the knife
is sharp
and
while
you think you’re never
going to forget,
you will.

faster than you’d think
you’ll start filling your head
with new thoughts
of the new adventures
you are having
and the new stories
you are writing
every day.

so don’t let pain get to you,
if you don’t die
then you will
get better
and the pain will pass soon,
it’ll pass quicker
then you could
believe.

enjoy what you have
when you have it
and when don’t have it anymore,
take a deep breath,
close you eyes,
and really let it
go.

it’s a whole lot easier than
you ‘d think.