Grieving the Me I wanted to be

Overflowing, trickling, oozing disappointment...
It reaches up from the pit of my stomach
It tugs on my ear, begging for a listener
Tonight, for the first time in years, I tune in.
My regrets trickle from the crevices of my lids.
They fall in black streaks of tar...
Hot, sticky and shameful.
Tasty desires are stripped of their pleasure
And their haze no longer lingers.
What’s left is unbearably visible and serrated,
Gouging areas soaked in my insecurity.
For the inevitable consequences boil under my breasts.
They boil and blister til there’s scars left in me
For the worst of pains are held from within
It is there that they fester, unable to be cared for.
Now ten years back I was sure and loud
But now I lay here tonight full of disgust
For the little me would not be proud.