i couldn't muster a fraction of love for myself.
in tongue, i choke and it falls back into my chest.
i could explode if you poked me or
i will stay put, filling even more. ever-expanding.
in weight and in presence, and yet i am nothing.
in existence, i have no ripple and
i am still filling.

i cannot muster a fraction of love for myself.
and i cannot burden you with a word or two.
so i am still filling, no intent on being large.
but i am.
and i await the day i explode and dissolve into thin air.
like i deserve.

i will not muster a fraction of love for myself.
not a fraction i would deserve.