I've always been the kind of person
To dig a splinter out,
With my teeth, if I have to-
Instead of soaking it in water
And waiting for it came out on it's own.
Even if it made the pain worse at first,
Or took longer to heal afterwards,
I never had the patience.
Call it a flaw,
I just can't tolerate the sitting and doing nothing
While something festers away inside.
I feel like I have a splinter in my chest.
One of barbed wire, and rust-
Winding, and razor sharp,
And lodging itself deeper
With every beat of my heart
And every aching breath.
But it's not a splinter.
It's not something I can dig out with a pocket knife,
Or my bare hands,
No matter how unbearable I find it-
Its intangible,
For the most part,
I can't even put my finger on what "it" is.
But I can feel it,
Shredding me from the inside.
Just like you.
And I could describe in gorey detail
The ways I would like to extract you,
Along with any pieces of me that you've
Metastisized onto
But I don't think it would make me feel any better.
I don't know what would make me feel better.
Screaming, maybe?
But I'd have to stop eventually,
And I imagine you'd be back soon enough.
Punching a punching bag?
Or the wall? 
Or myself?
That only works for a little while too.
Maybe all this work I'm doing,
Maybe this is me soaking my finger in water.
And you'll come out on your own eventually.
I hope that's true.
But in the meantime, I can't help it-
I'm gonna scream, and punch, and
Fight you the whole way.
The way I wish I had back then.
And maybe it's a flaw,
But it's one I'm keeping
For as long as it means getting rid of you.
Even if it hurts,
And takes for-Fucking-ever
I'm willing to bet I can take it.



Hi Coral. Raven. I love the bittersweetness of your poem.

The rhythm rolls along beautifully. A skilful poet you are. X


Thank you so much!!

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