Delicate

“I’m getting tired of feeling delicate.” - Gracie Abrams 

delicate when i don’t sleep while my love is soundly snoring 

delicate as the world screams beyond the windows, and i’m stuck here mourning 

delicate, tears press on the back of my eyes for no reason 

delicate so i love you only echoes back “please, please mean it”

delicate when i’m quiet

                  although it’s worse when i’m enraged 

delicate, numb, fed only with words scrawled across the page 

delicate when the smell of roses tastes like merciless liars 

delicate, i have no lighter, and there’s no spark left in my fire

delicate when good things feel too much like foreshadowing 

delicate, the mirror trembled, my starvation was unflattering 

delicate as the shower floor turns cold beneath the water 

delicate from years of fighting back like such a selfish daughter 

delicate when something difficult is put a little bit too blatantly 

delicate because my weakness is a manifestation of complacency 

delicately put, sometimes i love myself so much i start to hate me

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Notes:

• This poem first appeared in my unpublished chapbook “Notes from the Shower Floor”.