For Being Real

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Happy Happy Joy Joy.”

Not the first to shed that day
eyes prone to saltwater expression,
these words lit into me
tempering the fire inside
only tears can quench.

The change coalesces
when your words bandage my wounds,
lacerations caused by you
should not be salved by your silver-tongue
and yet

my acceptance of you emanates
my anger evanesces
my hurt micro-cooked into square compartments
sewn safe into my skin

and I love the tears
you’ve pulled from me.


Talk at me while I eat

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