Mad Woman
They say it’s madness.
I guess I am the mad woman
watching the trees through my window.
They say I’ll never get better
that there is no such thing as better.
Once you are gone you can’t ever come back.
There is a scar on my soul,
I would rather there be a tattoo.
I want you to know, everything I do,
everything, is to save myself.
The pills I take are getting sour
but they are not meant to taste good.
I wonder if I taste like anything at all,
much less good. I can’t taste myself
but I know that I taste like a word.
You would understand if you knew my password
to the account I closed because I forgot it.
I think about the strings of a guitar.
I have never touched them
but I think I can play.
Do you know my tune,
the one on repeat in my head?
It smells like a forest, dew in the morning on grass.
I am a small person, a dandelion in the sun.
I grow relentlessly, I am a weed.
I am to be pulled out, forgotten.
But they can’t forget the crazy way I grow
in their garden. I take up good space
and make everything ugly.
nina