I’ve been getting to know my Pain.

I believe she’s a gardener
because of everything she plants inside of me.

she grows self-doubt tulips and self-pity lilacs
anguish orchids and agony roses
confusion sunflowers and cruelty hydrainas
she grows sorrow spices as well
and makes suffer salads with them.
(memory mint and regretful rosemary are her favorite to use)

sometimes I cultivate her
the way she cultivates her garden.
sometimes I laugh at her
because there’s simply
no other way. 
sometimes we play together
but only
if it’s
raining.
sometimes she’s comforting,
and I’m grateful because
at least I have flowers in me.
sometimes I hate her just
like
she hates her neighbor,
Joy.

yet, I love her.
the kind of true love. One
you never forget, even if you want. One
you learn to hate, the same way you learn to love.

hey Pain, get out of the garden.
the neighbors are having a dinner party.