POEM: DON’T BE YOUR OWN PROBLEM

Here is no way to describe the feeling you get when you get the last evidence

After a truck load of what the hell becomes

No longer a clue

When you get that last evidence of infidelity

And feel nothing

No sadness

No anger

No passion

You’re just sterile.

You wonder how you’ve become that person

Or have become bogged down so many times

That you read a sad cheating email

And feel nothing.

At the very least, you’d hope you’d be pissed, or cry, or feel

But you don’t.

And then

You are thankful.

You’ve come to realize, holding back your truth kills.  Without honesty, you die, not softly by the way, terribly.

-eml