twenty years is a hell of a long time
yet here i am
caught up in this spiral of  unrequited self love
like a hamster on a wheel.
every day it's the same story
melancholy greets me with an ugly smirk and
crawls up my leg, digs his nails on my skin
and sits on my chest
as  
i lay on my back
heart heavy
my gut swings on a hoo -la-hoop
i feel sick
like i might throw up
in hopes of this being poetry
so any of this would make some sense
but metaphors have abandoned me and my misery
i can't sugarcoat this enough to make it easier
for you to gulp it down your throat
i can't romanticise this enough for this to be another of your #beautifultragedy
but like everything else
i am getting use to this too
and
now
this feels warm, warmth from the burning corpse that is my body
this feels familiar and safe, like my mother's arms
now this feels just like home, broken and wrecked