When they go quiet I won’t think

“What’s wrong with me?”

Not anymore.

I have wasted hours trying

To figure that out

Just to go back to the mirror

After years of weariness have worn me to dust

To find my reflection, with well-worn tear tracks,

Staring back and whispering

“You’re a beautiful creature.

Not a thing is wrong with you.”

So when they go quiet

I will instead remember

The words I had for myself

After hours of having my threads unknotted,

By the careful hands of people trained to untie,

“Their feelings are their own

And I don’t have to carry that.”