Inadequacy
Dear Inadequacy,
My darling,
I admire how quickly
You set up shop in my skeleton
And created a home of coldness
As I darkened the doorway of
A mother convicted of her own demons
You darkened the corridor of my mind,
Making house with rugs and blankets of insecurity.
As I grew,
Your presence inside
Of my bones grew as well.
I could always feel you playing
A maniacal little tune,
Strumming against my veins,
Beating against my heart,
With your lyrics floating up
My spinal cord to the effect
Of a soft voice, hinted with the blues,
Serenading ceaselessly.
My sweet,
I’m not quite sure how
I’ve been able to breathe all these years
With the smoke of your chimney filling my lungs.
As I walk through the mist
Of my blurred lines and shaking hands,
You appear in every moment
With an air of nonchalance and subtlety.
As I live,
You live in the growing, empty hole of my heart,
Torn further open each time the first kiss is the last.
You live in the sinking pit of my stomach,
Pulled lower each time I am again the last choice.
You live in the trembling of my ear drums,
Convulsing harder each time a scream of disappointment erupts.
You live in the painful swelling of my throat,
Closing tighter each time when hopeful words run dry.
You live in the leaking of my tired eyes,
Growing heavier each time I am found lacking.
My dear,
I’ve lived with you as my identity, and
I have only condoned your squatting
In my sole chance at existence.
As I pull my attention away from you,
I learn that I am so much more
Than the failure you pointed out,
And the failure I defined myself as.
As I learn,
You should pack up the antique china,
The pots, pans and books.
You should roll up the rugs,
The tapestries, blankets and quilts.
You should dismantle the beds,
The couches, chairs and tables.
You should sell the treadmill,
The futon, lamps and shelves.
Because there’s a sign on your lawn
And the “Welcome Home” mat is forever gone.
With love and newfound understanding,
Your former Host
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