Everyone’s chest is a living room wall with awkwardly placed photographs hiding fist-shaped holes. - Andrea Gibson

I suffer
from unrequited self love.
I love myself, but I don’t
Love myself
back.

Too much lives in a moment
to not feed it to the fire in the heart, slow.

What if I don't want the monster
to stop being a monster?

What if that's the only anchor I have left?
What if my sanity depends on being able to point
at a bad thing and say, That is the bad thing.

Haven't I already lost enough time
losing track of who the enemy is?
I've spent half of my life not knowing the difference

between killing myself and fighting back.