Things I Don’t Tell People
I often cry alone in public bathrooms,
in the stalls at the very end because no
one thinks to look there first. Sometimes
I’m too afraid to want thing; I yearn too
much, down to the root, so much obsession
wracking this asphalt body, it quickly
resembles hunger. Tell me: what could be
more tragic than the act of not getting thing
you desire most? Craving it so badly that
you run headfirst into anything that smells
like an offering. Somedays existing is hard.
Somedays I’d rather stay in bed and collapse
beneath my sheets, think of all the ways one
can hurt without even leaving a room. I am
sometimes this girl underneath. Solemn.
Semi-rotten. Squishy in certain places, almost
fragile to the touch. Still; I want love to rock
me violently. Stretch me to the point of snapping,
By Karese Burrows
Karese Burrows is a poet and graphic designer from The Bahamas. Her poetry has previously been featured in The Rising Phoenix Review, Harpoon Review, L’Ephemere Review, Penstrike Journal and Words Dance Publishing. Her first chapbook This Is How We Lost Each Other was published by UK independent publisher Platypus Press in 2018 and can be purchased from Platypus Press, Barnes & Noble and Amazon. She can be found at kareseburrows.tumblr.com.