“My pain is more important.
So no more conversation.
No more perusal of history
and fact.
Only my embarrassment
littering the rooms, festering,
accruing interest
like a loan I can never repay.
My debts have never been incurred
without visible bills of lading.
Now you say I’ve missed one.
If this one is due, and so high
that I could never pay,
then who am I?
Better for me to ignore you than
accept you for who you are. Me without
the right tools. You with your pain
stinging you like a thousand bees
through a thousand grains of salt.
You butting against me now
so I am also stung.
And you swearing that this
is the beginning...
“I won’t be hurt now
along with you.
You’re used to this space,
but its rim is sharp
and cuts me without warning.
I won’t have it.
If you are to be believed,
I’ve looked and not seen when
the one scattering pain…
