haven’t had cheesecake in years

i have these
conversations
where i explain
my manic shatter
to the people
i wish wanted
to talk to me
in my head when
i try to sleep

i carefully
construct the words
detailing which
actions left me
in this state
where i feel
incapable of
speaking out loud

smallerandsmaller
iballupmyemotions
mutteringtomyself
inthesilencewhile
she goes on as if

i never existed

no one loves a poet
not even themself

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