i wish i could explain to you
what it feels like
to grieve something
you still have.
each morning,
i wake up and
face what is
dead.
every day,
an unwanted visit
to the graveyard
of what i am missing.
i place flowers
on the headstones
of so many things
that even the flowers
are growing
weary.
my hands have memorized
the motions
of driving down this road
over and over
again;
continue straight down
unease way,
turn right onto
apprehension avenue,
make a hard left on
accusation street,
stop abruptly on
tears lane,
pull over on
the side of the road.
reminisce on
your guilt trip,
and wonder what
you have done
to deserve this
toxic thing that
life has handed to you.
it is then,
you see the sign
on the side of the road:
“welcome to
my life,”
where the population
is however many people
i have the courage
to share it with.
