Heads

My problems were sprouting ugly heads and you groomed each one with the softest sounds until I’d forgotten the faces
so as sounds dissolved and you couldn’t stay afloat
I masked problems with your skin
all those nights brokenhearted over dirty kitchens and passive aggression
became blameless by your voice
until I became untended to and the burden was yours
the burden.
Do I hate myself or just love to?
Tippy tapping away at a keyboard because you made my evening bright but the realisation that I needed brightening terrifies me
I need another source of light.