Even if I’d set out to intentionally create a source of pain,
I couldn’t have done better.
Because it never really leaves, it only lessens,
Becomes distracted by a leg cramp here, a money worry there,
But it returns in full force as soon as things start to sort out.
I wake to it, I live through it, I fall asleep to it.
It is my companion, yet not my friend, and I wish,
I earnestly wish it would go and let me heal.
No piece of art that it spawns can justify its destruction
The days and weeks and joys it’s claimed.
And when it fully grips me; I’m blinded by its intensity,
I wonder, in those moments, if I am alone.
To my shame, I hope that another sits in the dark
Groping for a succor to the searing, shooting horror
Questioning how to live with these, the consequences
Of the sadist we birthed together.
more by VK LYNNE
photograph by Ryan McGuire
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