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Poem

I know you,
misery.

Old company from years before I ever met joy.

I have shut the door in your face in recent years,

Tucked you in the back of the closet to hang on your own. I know how you hate being alone.

I know you,
misery.

A bad influence from my youth, drugged up on the dredges of fantasy and bloodied bits of hope in your hands.

You tear apart every good thing. You rot what is ripe, you siphon what brings life.

I know you,
misery.

And how I loathe you everyday. How I despair at the sight of your face, the reach of your soft hands.

I know you,
misery.

And I hate how you mock me, how your voice croons with affection as you torment me, how your arms wind around my hips and your warmth seeps into my wounded flesh.

And you tell me you know me too.

So for today I know you a little better, hold you a little tighter, and I let you in.

But I know you,
misery.

And I’m telling you never again.

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