Horror

I'm speaking in

poems, now.

I can't help it.

The thin membrane between

Courtney-person

and

Courtney-writer

has been pierced with

haunting images.

I wish that I could

weep for them,

but my heart doesn't know how.

And, anyway,

salt-water words

can't heal

ALL

things...

The horror of it

somehow fascinates me.

Does that mean I'm a

monster?

I don't think so.

My soul has felt

much destruction;

I think sometimes it's

nice to know

I'm not alone with

scars.