every failure has a seat
at the long dark table of my mind
they do not wait to be called
they arrive uninvited
dragging their chairs with splintered grace
and settle in like they never left
they speak over each other
loud and unrelenting
their voices rise like smoke
curling into every thought
every breath i try to take
the one who cost me everything
leans forward with eyes like broken glass
whispers that i was never enough
not then
not now
not ever
another laughs
a low and bitter sound
tells the story of when i tried
and failed so loudly
the silence that followed still echoes
they rearrange the walls of my mind
scrape at the corners
with claws made of memory
chisel new shapes into my thoughts
and paint shame in places
light used to reach
i beg for quiet
but they are architects tonight
they are sculptors of sorrow
and i am clay
soft and unwilling
turning under their relentless hands
they feast
they sing
they remind
this is not a dinner
it is a haunting
and i
i am still the host