poisonous mixture
half of me wants to scream
the other half already did, but in lowercase,
into a pillow,
in a locked bathroom,
in 2019 maybe?
this isn’t about one thing
it’s about everything i swallowed
thinking it was soup
someone said “you’re strong”
i heard: don’t cry
someone said “you’ll get over it”
i heard: shut up
i’m made of leftovers
grudges in tupperware
disappointment in foil
shame cooling on the back burner
this whole kitchen is cursed
and still i eat
i keep mixing
jealousy + caffeine + an old screenshot
salt from someone else's wound
sugar to make it digestible
the poison isn't in the bottle
it's in the repetition
in how i keep going back
for more
but hey
i’m still here
and that has to mean something, right?
maybe next time
i’ll cook something else.
maybe i’ll spit it out.
maybe i already have.
Ana