don’t underestimate my sorrow,
for you do not understand the depths
of this broken body that lies here
in the confinements of not knowing.
i do not want your pity
or your condolences. let me weep in this orchard
where my life has begun to grow, and stagnate.
i feel like this is necessary to lie in the grass
until it wraps its lacy fingers around my neck
and breathes my breath for me. i am volatile
now; i will not bend to your weaknesses.
so please, don’t underestimate what i am
when i walk through those doors to greet you.