asleep
in
the
guestroom
away
from
all
the
fuss
the little monster ignores
my worried calls
and
I
start
thinking
she
died
while
I
was
busy
tending
to
a
catty
patient
she seemed to take
great pleasure in
temporarily breaking my heart
I’ve tried telling them
these feelings for you, but they
won’t listen to me
you must leave me be
I have nothing left to give
and you deserve more
I know it is true
yet you remain, my sweetheart
we both should let go
but fear still binds us
and the odds are stacked so high
you won’t disappear
birthday tip-toed into
the morning sun shadows, greeted me with open arms,
and begged me to get
up and play with it.
one more year is here to
plaster me in hope and grind
me down to a newer version
of myself I’ve been shelving for
decades.
I tell it I’ll surrender under
one condition, and that’s if
it’ll give me fifteen minutes
in a room with my dead
cousin, unbothered by a
world that keeps shifting
with every breath I take.
it’s an interrogation of sorts;
how I attempt to negotiate
getting older and being
happy while doing it, instead
of drowning myself in
sadness.
“I’m better now.
I’m healing.
I’m giving myself the
grace everyone says I
should.”
and time is offering me
an extended contract
with every bell and whistle
I prayed for, and I don’t
know if I should sign.
but there’s hope for
me yet.
I’ve made it to 43, and
I do not feel the same.
“This is good”, I tell
myself.
“This is very good.”
my sweet baby girl
a mountain in the rearview
of my healing heart
A Cornered Gurl 
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