Today is filled with headaches and their residuals,
with tears I wish I knew how to cry.
I keep ripping up fresh healed wounds
so at least I can feel something.
Have all of me,
because I know I’m not here to stay -
can stitch it up and refill later.
I’m full with emotions that I know all too well.
I feel too big to hide within myself.
I feel you sticking in my lungs (I can’t breathe).
My body turning against me
Demanding to be heard.
Soon there will be a ringing in my head,
knives at the womb -
twisting, ripping free,
cause my heart can’t help but hold on.
Will she rage at me again?
     I’m sorry.
I’m always sorry -
     for you, for being too much, for taking
     it to heart, for loving, for-giving.
Never for myself.
I do not deny that
I know my body language
and I know when I’m not listening.
I know my demons by design
and I know when they are starving.
My own hands feed them,
invite them to the table.
Too busy distracting myself from the things I know are good for me.
That love I want is far.
That love I need staring back at me.
Her hands, reaching out,
she feels the cold
and is pushing through,
reaching into abysmal distance
for something to take hold.
To pull me back home.
Voices I wish I didn’t want to hear
are singing and enchanting me.
I’m left to face this age old Demoness,
withstanding the trials of time.
Tell me what you feed upon
and I’ll serve you on a silver platter.
Nourish you so I’m not eating away at myself.
I’m afraid of any more withering.