Doubt

 “Nothing is different from yesterday”

I’m getting ready for work but tears are leaking down my face.

All the things that I have put off. The things I haven’t said.

And this fucking awful song going around in my head that I shouldn’t have listened to last night, but of course I did because I’m a prick. (soon you’ll get better) 

That suggestion of doubt, left in any situation is what holds the pain I realise. The room for a different outcome. But the doubt isn’t real. Just put there for an imagined, what? Protection? From the pain- her pain or mine? You don’t show me yours so you don’t have to see mine either I guess. Win win. Perhaps, 

Perhaps you don’t see it that way. But

“You’re allowed to feel your feelings.”

I tell myself. Even as, 

I feel myself squashing them down.

Trying to stop them because they feel like sin.

Isn’t this where it all starts? 

The blackening of our insides? 

I will remind myself each time my head 

throbs with the effort of concealment.

Until my emotions run out of me like a river

Without me needing to reminding myself 

“This is what you were made to do”

You were made to feel.