I bet you talk to yourself the same way I do
Sometimes, saying shit any sane friend
Would shut down were we to direct our spew
At them. I’ve gotten kinder and managed to mend
A few tears my words ripped, but mean
Patterns like to reassert, and I feel
That familiar constriction squeeze just between
My ribs and belly button. I can heal
That twinge if I stop and put a hand on my chest
Or cheek, and I give it a rub like someone who’s
Compassionate. And I thank that wringy pest
That grabs my guts for his anti-venom cues.
I hope you say kind things to you today.
Go slow, and tell your squeezer I said hey.
