The Table

I’ve told you all I can say. 
And it’s too much.
It’s too much. 

Too much for me,

Too much to expect of you. 

No one signed up for the ugliness in the world. 

And you didn’t sign up for the ugliness in my world. 

And I keep poking and prodding.

How ugly can I get?

Can you live with what I carry inside? 

And still love me?

Because I can’t. 

Sometimes I can’t. 

This weight I carry around inside like a pillow full of feathers,

Did I appear glamorous?

When I sag my shoulders when you aren’t looking.

Who can tell I carry two hundred pounds in my stomach? 

Skipping around with lead in my esophagus like it’s just a bag of Jack’s to play with. 

Your eyes swallow me with a different kind of wonder.

A wonder of what kind of person I am.

Not that same kind of loving impossible wonder. 

That how the fuck can I handle this wonder?

How the fuck do you handle it wonder?

And Im left with, how the fuck could I have told him wonder?

But I need you to know who I am. 

I need someone to know. 

And maybe I didn’t ask the right questions. 

When I said, are you sure?

I know you didn’t have this in mind. 

But I told you we come from the same world. 

You didn’t believe me. 
When you talk about forever, am I the kind of stuff you can live with?

Yeah I carry it well.
But at the end of the day trash is trash, and shit is still gonna stink like shit. 
I know I look like a feast and I wish I was. 

Filled with pretty memories. 

But with me, you still have to eat your greens before dessert. 

And I’m sorry. 

I wish I had a way to tell you before you sat at the table. 


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