anxiety

i was overwhelmed so i started to write, the dead weight of memory, page after page after page until some of the grief was expelled from my heart. i was still overwhelmed so i sang in the shower, song after song after song until some more of the grief was expelled from my heart. and still i went to sleep with a heavy heart. for me change, passing from one thing to another, is a partial death. a part of us dies. the sadness about its dying or passing away cannot but touch my heart. i do what i do because i don't know how to be someone else.

he said he loved me, the magic word. it was supposed to make everything light up and be fixed. ill never trust that word again. i let whatever was in me that still needed you, need.

maybe we carried each other? maybe even forgiveness is without resolution.