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Why I only write sad poems


Andrea Esquivel


You’ve stood here before

Where the earth scorched your feet

Where the steam rose so high and thick

You felt—knew—you couldn’t breathe

You couldn’t even hear yourself begging anymore

Crying in desperation

To just wake up

To just get up and brush your teeth

Because the draining effort of waking up

And brushing your teeth felt like it would make you collapse

Like the steam would swallow you in so heavy

And so thick and stubbornly

That it felt less like hell if you just let it eat at you

And yet you still got up

You went to hell every day until it became what it once was again

Just life

You let yourself feel beautiful again

Even on the days where it felt like a sin

And yet you looked in the mirror today and found that

The pain of agony cannot be hidden

Even in the most beautiful faces

You already knew this

You already knew that the porcelain like beauty of tears was a lie

You knew that pain took away beauty and grace

So why did it sting so much?

Why did it hurt so badly that for a second

Everything became hell again?

Did you uncover the lie that hid on top of all the bitter reminders

Of who you are and where you’re from?

Why did you come back to me?

Your old friend the pen?

Because this is all I am meant to do for you

To regurgitate in the moments that feel like a heart stopping relapse

The ones where you lay back and shake

And all you want to do is vomit your insides

Until you’re an empty body inside a casket

Until the woman who ripped her body open to birth you

Lays over your gravestone in memory of a fantasy she created for herself

The perfect little girl you never became

The one who got up and did more than make life just simply not hell

Because not hell is not enough

Life is not enough

Where did all the beauty go?

When will the steam condense so beautifully

That you can sit back and admire the chemistry

The chemistry

The material beauty of this world because it needs to be so literal

It needs to be so tangible and real and physical

That you forgot what the abstract is

You forgot what love feels like

But how could you not when every day

Only feels like perhaps it’s a good day

Until every day is a good day

And then what is good anymore?

And so we have found your downfall

For you must make things so terribly awful for yourself

So you can feel the validation of good coming back around to knock on your door

You must tear good away from the inside out

Until your own bones are disintegrated

Until you’ve drenched yourself in the ugly practice of self hatred

Of hating every single thing about yourself

You like to scare good away

You like to cheat on her with dishonest lies about her

And everything to do with yourself

You like hitting her and making her curl into a corner

Until she’s no longer recognizable

Until after moments of agony she finally ups and leaves

And then what do you do?

You clean up and you make every day as less hellish as you can

Until good finally knocks on the door again

Until you finally let her in again

But what happens when she doesn’t come back?

Well

You’ve been here before

Where the earth scorches your feet

You’ve stood here before

Where the steam rises so high and thick you can’t breathe

You’ve stood here before

The moment before you fall to your knees

The moment before you put the pieces back together

So do it again

And again

And again

And again

Until you can put me to rest




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