I said
I hope everything works out for you
And I do
But it won’t for me
And that’s not pessimism
Or an outstretched arm with a wide open palm
Waiting to be weighed down with sympathy
It’s an understanding of things no one says
Of the things I feel when I disappear
Into the black velvet corners of my thoughts
It’s not pessimism
It’s the certainty that no other soul
Will have enough water to put out the fire in mine
Or worse
Not enough kindling to keep it raging