In Therapy

A poem that came to mind as I am writing at Philz coffee drinking my Chai Latte.  Enjoy.  Stream of consciousness.

In Therapy

That tissue box, crumpled and awaiting
guarded and edgy sofas
Fences around don’t get close

Tirades, stomping of feet and I really don’t want to be here
Oh, yes, you do…get better, get better
The paths we look back on that now we are still walking
Let’s retrace those hidden steps, more stories more levels to
accomplish–hidden tears want to run like a marathon, but you
hold back—a memory comes to mind and then the tears beat you
before you can catch up

An emotional spillage of intangible journeys–
More tissue gets yanked out of that stupid box
And across the space you just want that mirror to hug you and
Tell you that everything is ok

The mirror doesn’t talk back, it just listens…watches, and then
after the hard work that is put in, you see your own reflection
and then you realize that you are satisfied…completely…take
the training wheels off and you are free.

–Michelle

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