on trauma and how I live with it
I nurture my trauma like it has nurtured me, taken care of me, watched me grow and blossom and wither into pieces
I wake up each day to a kiss from trauma and a soft good morning and I smile and say I love you because I do, I do, I do
I make breakfast with trauma, it holds my waist and I sing my grief and it says I'm beautiful as I flip our toast on the pan
I shower with trauma and it's hold is soft as it washes me and presses kisses to my forehead and I crumble under it's touch
I work with trauma, both of us in our separate chairs as I chew onto my pencil and it chides me for my bad habits and we laugh
I eat dinner with trauma and it's late, I say when it scrapes the chair over the floor half an hour after our dinner time and says sorry for it's tardiness and I forgive it because I love and I love and I love
I go to sleep with trauma, holding it close to me, making sure it won't slip away from my fingers like happiness did
I live and breathe and exist with trauma because without it I'm nothing, because without me it's nothing
























