I am sick and tired
of people I love
being sick and tired.

I am sick and tired
of standing over
hospital beds
watching them pretend.

I am sick and tired
of them not wanting
to stay.

If you're going to take them,
take them like a Band-Aid.
Don't drag them out of themselves
and through me.

I'm sick of washing
grief out of clothing
and calendar dates.
Marking one year, two years,
three years, does it ever stop?

Realizing that one day
I will have lived more
days without you than
with you.

And I crumple
like leaves under feet
with every passing
season of my life.
Would you even
recognize me?

I'm running out
of room in my
fist to fit everyone
that I miss.




Running out of
time in the day
to do things that
keep me close to them.

The smell of cigarette
smoke and baby powder
is now a monsoon.

Because using her
dish ware with silverware
at every meal isn't enough,
my handwriting has
turned into hers.
And my god, we even
write my name the same.

If I can't be your
favorite, at least
I can still be mine.

Their suffering may be over
but mine has just begun.
Forgive these words
I'm just sick and tired.