I have been meaning to tell you
I am sick
I am sicker than youth.
I walked into your oncoming traffic heart
And played dead
And you came crawling from the debris
Licking my wounds
And nurturing me worrisome and bitter
Fanning the flames of infection.
And so many days I have given you the credit,
But me and this heart
Will forgo all this meaningless sparse care
With a self-inflicted cleansing
That washes you away.
You like it when I fall down
And cry out for help
What is going to happen when I don’t need you?
