Disgruntlement,
like shoes that fit perfect on one foot
and pinches on the other,
like an itch that acts up in the placid of placid times.
like the rut pulling me in,
like quicksand,
of my own doing.
Flaccid,
like the last flop a
fish out of the water feels.
like the last time
I loved my first,
like the paused stories in me
like the fear that comforts me,
like the coward’s way to abandon,
like all that was never completed
Safety,
when they believe
even when I don’t,
when they love
even when I rage,
when they accept,
even when I deny.
when the lion giggles at me
and the whales lull me to sleep.
Disconnected,
from the girl staring back at me in the mirror.
Did I do you good?
Did I fail you?
Did I sell your soul?
Did I not love you?
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