I don’t talk about it much,
because I can’t figure out how to write
about it.
It still stings like a thousand bees,
takes my breath away like a kick to the gut.
I can feel my brain get lost,
“wait, what’d you say, sorry.”

I am an alien among humans,
like I’m acting in a movie it doesn’t feel like I’m sitting there.
If I’m not busy busy busy I am a fly
at a bar drinking as if it could be my last;
and then I’m sick.

I need a doctor to remove this scar tissue around my heart.
It didn’t heal right, or maybe it’s not done yet.
What do I do in the meantime?