Oh how it stings, it stings
this old poetry, these old things
that you mopped up
like blood and suds.
I smile for you, I felt all new and wasn’t sure
what to do. Next, I fastened the seatbelt
and stapled my heart
to the bed.
You lift my sadness off like a hat
and what you’ve taken does not feel
cold or void, I used to sit and struggle
with my heart and lungs
all falling out.
They slid right down
my backside. I grasped
and gasped at the loss.
Now I sit, I do not struggle
as you push
it all back in.
You lift my sadness off,
like an old dress, you remind me
of the other things
I have to wear.