Guilt and shame stink like a rotten
egg. A smell so foul leaves a residue of scum that lingers and is not
easily scraped off. It flakes off in bits and then somehow magnetically latches
back and holds on and is extremely resistant to letting go. It acts as if it’s convinced it belongs there; a part of you, like a limb you were born with and serves a specific function
that you never really had to think much about because it was just there and
working. Like a leg or the fourth little toe on your right foot that out of
nowhere hurts a lot when you walk barefoot on a hard surface and it definitely
did not hurt five minutes earlier.
It goes to sleep and wakes up with you. Sitting on the pillow staring at you square on, like a cat who wants to be fed and starts kneading your hair. Purring and then goes in for the swipe and gives a nasty little scratch.
The scratch stings most of the day. Just a reminder that it is not going to leave.
It goes to sleep and wakes up with you. Sitting on the pillow staring at you square on, like a cat who wants to be fed and starts kneading your hair. Purring and then goes in for the swipe and gives a nasty little scratch.
The scratch stings most of the day. Just a reminder that it is not going to leave.
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