Therapy

Therapy again. 
Every week. 
All over. 
Like pollen. 
Falls onto my shirt. 
Brushing my sleeve. 
Empty brushing. 
Then burning up, toxic burning. 
My therapist asks about next week. 
Shaking a bit. 
Next week, I have a different appointment on Tuesday. 
Wednesday is all the same. 
I’m doing as horrible as ever. 
Has anyone ever wondered why therapy is every week?
If I were an addict, I’d say I’m a therapy addict. 
Shaking. 
Horrible as ever.
My insurance will cover most of the bill. 
Next week. 
I ask if we can do it again. 
She always has an opening for me.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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