the invisible

awareness of my mental state knocks at the door
looking out the window i see no one there but
get up to open it anyway

i recognize her so invite her in
i go to my room and sorrow beckons
so she follows

i ask her to stay awhile, to have a seat on
the bed before turning my back to the desk
reflecting on written words that had become
martyrs of my vulnerability

just as i’d begun tearing down columns
i’d erected she began whispering
which angered me because i knew she
knew i couldn’t hear well

i asked her to speak up and
she told me someone was nearby
and that no matter how close in
proximity they were, they’d never
knock like she did

it felt like she was telling me
that no matter how long i
looked at a cloud it would
never become a pillow
so i asked her to quiet down

turning back i witnessed in
slow motion the crumbling
of what seemed to be my
dreams and it felt like a
heart attack that heart break
refused to rescue

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