More fresh than ever
Are wounds
Scars
Slashes
Bruises
Cuts
All formed from memories.
From words of torment.
From mistaken tough love.

Shadows try to hang over me.
Light tends to fade away.
Life tends to be too much.
Yet I've always stayed.
Always remained,
Happy.
Delusional, maybe.
Hypocritical,  a bit.
But happy
while I'm stressed,
depressed
And oppressed.
By your version of love.

I'll be okay.
I am okay.
We'll be okay.
I keep trying to reassure myself
Even though I do believe it.
Yet, deep down,
There's this nagging fear
That says things could be worse.
And I'm tired of worse.
I just want to be good.
Want it all to be good enough.

(March 28-2021)