romantic love makes its way closer to remind it never left. it’s hard to gaze directly into the light. surely its lost its way if wanting to be by my side.

i’m enough. i’m enough. i’m enough. i’m worthy. i’m worthy. i’m worthy.
the mantra doesn’t stick. deep in places unrecognizable even to me, an echo returns with
you’re not. you’re not. you’re not. you’re nothing. you’re no one. you’re nothing.

surplus of abundance surrounds me and acute awareness of its presence makes the agony worse. i’m not sure what kind of steward i am or the level of disappointment caused by aligning so effortlessly with darkness. it seems to be a relationship i can’t quit. it feels abusive and i hate waking up next to its sticky embrace.

i make the bed and say out loud everything i’m grateful for in a daily ritual recommended by a friend. i know that all of everyone’s needs will be met, and that beyond this, many will poured upon with blessings they can’t count. i finish making the bed and know there is more to vocalize but i’d lose my voice to continue expressing everything. so it is with supreme guilt i admit sadness still sleeps with me, and that with all the effort in the world to embrace contentment, i’ve failed to connect the dots that separate life and death, and my nakedness is covered in self-loathing.

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