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Something warm
has curled up inside my chest.
It is filled with hate,
with sadness,
with things I cannot express.
But it is soft,
quiet...
I let it be.
It lies, dormant;
a parasite.
It’s presence is
reassuring, although it is
slowly sapping my strength.
I cannot survive without it,
but I do not want to carry
this thing around.
It has filled the cavity
within my chest
with this sticky,
painful sweetness.
This thing has
made a den of my soul,
seeping through my seams and
dripping
with syrupy pain.
It is filled with hate,
but how
can I push
such a wonderful thing
away?
