Therapy – poem of the week

I think I hear you saying

You are tired of hearing me say

Or rather talk about

The hard things contained in the week I walk about

Or rather walk through


I think what I hear you saying


You tire of me saying — splaying myself

Out there

I hear you saying

You prefer white washed tombs to broken men

Meaning sensitive, loving, romantic

Are all polite words for



I hear you saying that you don’t want to see me anymore

I would like to know how we would go about not seeing each other


Would we just avoid mirrors all together

What about my voice

Or even the sound of my breathing

Is hearing me out of the question


I hear you saying you are having trouble sitting within your own skin

That you didn’t sleep well last night

And the nightmares poked their bony fingers through your dreams

And touched your skin

I know you hear me saying — well

This is how it feels without

Without this or that

This is what it feels like to be

To be this or that

This is what it feels like to have no one

No one who knows

Knows how crowded it gets up there

Up there curled in the fetal position

Just wanting to scream

This is what to feels like to sit

To sit within yourself and have no other escape


And with that you may have no other option but to learn to live within it. Would it be too much to ask if some day, maybe years from now, if I could learn to love within it?




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