Again, again.

I cry in the evenings
And in the mornings

And in the parked car mid-day.

I grieve

All the things I've ever known or held or whispered to or thought of.

I grieve

For the people I never got to love because I was too scared or because they were.

For the little me who deserved so much more and who still craves an embrace that isn't
weighted with risk and repayment and expectations

I grieve.
I scream
I sob and wail
Muffled by the blankets and the hum of the window unit

My card gets declined
I cry
I remember my debts
And my losses
And my sacrifices, self or otherwise.

And I wish for the end
And I grieve.

I cry myself to sleep
And I wake up again.

‍

‍

Winter flame

I have a house made of straw and she comes to me with a torch in hand

We take turns holding the flame to the
walls.

And I beg her to come again.
She consumes me and I let her.

I'm afraid I'll turn to ash.