I used to work so hard at love

I would try

I’d say things I didn’t want to say
But it felt right
I’d look at this man a type of way
And expect him to look back

I would walk on coals
He was making a mad woman out of me
Just so I could take it

Be strong
Stop being so maladaptive I’d say

I was exhausting my truth into something less than
Meaning itself
This other version of desperation
A high I could not refuse

I was amused
I was excused


I made my fortune and now it’s churning
Like the meltdown of a butter stick emerging out of its cache
The cacophony of life enraptured in its cocoon

Feeling through the infield of unfiltered rays
A new way has come to me

Forever growing.
Metamorphosed.
In gratitude.