Maybe I’m addicted to pain,
hiding it within the sockets of my twisted body in the 3am silence
masking it with the lull of the morning paper
and candid coffee
that I gulp down without a conscious thought,
Maybe I like the tears I can command to rain down
on the things I hate to hear,
The things I cannot respond to
until the next morning, half past 11,
because every morning,
the storm in me wants to devour the storm around me,
after I have made my futile bed
and combed my hair,
half past 11 the next morning.
Maybe I’m still holding on to the things I should let go,
the things that keep my wounds from coagulating,
the things copulating and multiplying,
maybe, because it is who I am.
I’m the pain
that I hide under my hide,
even though there is no one who would dare notice it.
© That Girl in the Fray, 2018. All rights reserved.