Slow Burn: A Poetry Collection

Something For Your Silence

Today,

I booked a date with my psychiatrist.

Again.

We're going steady;

reluctantly.

Again.

Her place is so nice, so

She never understands my

refusal

to move in.

Our relationship is

toxic

I'm cheating on her with

willfulness. But she's a drug dealer.

Can you blame me?

no.

yes.

She tries to be patient with me.

Get it?

I'm not funny;

sick though - she tells me. She's

right

wrong.

Anyway -

I always return;

crying,

begging

her to help me with

these terrible

success fantasies.