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too much.

I wrote an unedited, free verse poem. Just cuz. The formatting is bad. Not feeling well today, so too tired to fix it. That seems to be what free verse, unedited is all about anyway. 🙂

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photo courtesy elephant journal

He has nothing else to control her with,

So he obsesses about the child.
At times she’s understanding–

She knows how to worry details

To their deaths, too.
But some days, when she’s ill or

Sad or worried or tired or just swirling

In the depths of being overwhelmed by

Everything and everyone,

He’s just too much.
He makes her feel inadequate

She drowns in his needs

And obligations, his never-ending

Expectations of expectations.

He’s just too much.
Some people are just

Too much for each other.

And so she takes to her bedroom

And checks out with movies

Or social media or writes poetry,
Though she knows these are vices,

Balms soothing bleeding, gaping 

Wounds that require surgery.

She did surgery, a couple of

Years ago, but the wound still bleeds.
Now she’s too tired these days to 

Perform more, so she just lies

Inert. A lot. Stomach roiling, feeling

Less than enough of some things,

Too much of others. 
It would be nice to 

Sleep, not have to put 

On shows, or meet

Other people’s expectations,

Other people’s obligations. 

Other people exhaust her.
The best of her vices 

When she gets like this is

Writing poetry, even if it’s bad.

Of course.

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