I want to cut my heart out to not feel

I planted a seed

it grew from the sand

we kissed on

 

there were layers

upon layers

at our feet

but

we never dug

deep enough.

 

Those times when

I feel like a figment

of my own imagination

are the times

I draw energy

from the earth.

 

You always make me feel

like I am never good enough

for society

or for my own psyche.

Truthfully, I am not.

I would rather not hear you

tell me

all my flaws

while cooking dinner.

I would rather not listen

to you screaming

while I search for my high heels

as I run out the door

to forget the reason

we were fighting

and my appetite gone

from destruction.

 

All the interruptions

are purposeful

you cannot make the decisions

but you can bury me

alive

with just a few words.

 

I cover my instincts

up with dreaded offensive

words. Yeah, I roll my eyes.

Yeah, I am sarcastic.

Yeah, I am becoming extinct.

No one cares

they are too busy

getting updated on

moments

instead of actually living

in them.

 

My Poet’s Market 2016 is worth

all of the 29.95 Canadian dollars.

I am learning to not trust

anyone

but myself.

The same lesson

over and over again.

 

 

 

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