Shreds of Paper & Spilled Ink

I should probably go to therapy

but I live in the greatest city in the world,

the city that never sleeps

because we’re all clinically anxious,

running at a frequency 

higher than the rest of society,

which makes finding a therapist 

who is in network

with availability 

harder than pulling the sword from the stone,

so instead,

I will write you these letters

expressing what my inner self 

will not allow me to say aloud,

tearing them up,

knowing I will never see you again,

that you will never stumble across them,

but so as to metaphorically rip your presence from my life,

maybe I should go to therapy,

but for now

my frequency will reverberate with those I am surrounded by,

allowing my madness to spark my creativity,

drowning the thoughts

and emotions of you

in shreds of paper and spilled ink


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