My chest is too tight
so leave me to my own unraveling.
Your single thread hold has nothing on my decades of undoing
of self, from the outside in.
Charmed into your vortex
disguised as maturity, mistaken for care,
reminded of all of the __________ before you.
My chest is too tight and my breath is short.
I don’t need your help dying
I know how deep to cut, I’ve done this before
Your dull blade is cruel.
My chest is too tight, my breath is short, and you are heavy.
I hold this weight in my throat,
careful not to swallow, not to regurgitate.
Choking on the tight, short, heavy.
Cutting the string with the dull blade.
…for the art of it.