The questions I ask when I feel too sick to sleep again

A poem

Photo by Megan te Boekhorst on Unsplash

Maybe I made myself sick,
as a smoker blackens their lungs.
Maybe I invited it in with deep breaths
held it too long inside until
the poison sunk into every ounce of me.
Maybe my body is keeping score
and I’m coming out as the loser.
Maybe these decades of holding tight
to my own fear, a white-knuckle grip,
let’s just get through
this day this week this…