Trapped In Trauma

solid pine

with faint lines

springs creak and release

leaning in to plant a kiss

but I’m not there

I’m never

not trapped within a guilty conscience

created by my own hands? possibly

a suit of armor around my inner feelings

tripwire laid between the outside

and my emotions

they get me in trouble, they get me left

because I love too hard, care too much

smoldering intensity for a world

that can hardly see past its nose

she touches my back

and asks if everything’s alright

“of course”, I say

of course like always

of course, because what else could be wrong

certainly not years of trauma, abuse

and a distinct fear of killing oneself

“of course”, she says

“you just need something to drink”

hot tea, with a hint of ginger

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