Emergence

Emerging,

they call me.

It’s a nice word,

tidy.

It elides right over the chaos

depression made of my life.

Makes the electric shitshow

of  coping mechanisms

and bad decisions

Sound like a beautiful transformation.

Emerging.

I am a fucking butterfly

and all those tears I shed

over men and heartbreak

were my liquid chrysalis.

And not a mental health crisis.

Emerging.

Emerging from the darkness.

Emerging into the light.

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Never Look Back

They never look back.

Men.

Have you noticed?

Once you’ve said goodbye

they look forward.

Away.

It’s that hunter’s gaze they all claim to have.

As if, once you’re out of direct view,

they’ve forgotten you ever were.

There.

How do I know this?

I always look back.

Hoping I’ve finally found another person who wishes our connection could last.

Just a little longer.