Does The Sadness Ever Go Away?
but it is in me, this bottomless grief, another organ in my body - always pulsating, always infecting, always eager to kill.
09/17
picture this:
a worm nesting in fruit,
thriving, breeding, regurgitating.
picture this:
me, the fruit.
my brain, the worm
chewing my spleen from the inside-out.
does it ever get better?
or, at the very least, riddled with less shame,
less remorse,
less repulsion,
less restlessness.
but you can’t heal a bruise
that never shows,
an open wound
that never bleeds
when the doctors come.
(we laugh and he mistakes my
worry for healthy).
picture this:
on an undeserved morning,
we were surprised to see the sun come.
picture this:
i unfold the newspaper,
the headline screams,
“you’re! growing! stronger!
more alive, more unbroken!”
but it is in me,
this bottomless grief,
another organ in my body –
always pulsating,
always infecting,
always eager to kill.
so picture this:
you bring the fruit to your lips,
but all you taste is rotten.
picture this:
the worm has consumed
the sweetest pulps. there is nothing left,
but skin. 
