divine dissatisfaction

i go to bed each night
my throat aching and raw
from having shouted all evening

at you.

i take two Tylenol
(extra strength)
to rid myself of this headache brought on

by you.

(i can’t)

i don’t ever fall asleep when i go to bed
when i pull the covers up over my face

i lay in the darkness till half past three
and wonder why i haven’t left you yet

(and sometimes why you
haven’t left me)

if someone asked if i’m happy
i’d tell them no.
they would laugh.

i’d tell them i’m dissatisfied
at you in you by you
and they’d stop.

‘dissatisfied,’ i would say.

(i can hear it all now.)

‘unhappy and overjoyed.’
‘dissatisfied in a highly divine manner.’

they’d laugh again
they always do.
we laugh along, but we know something

they don’t.

there is no happy

the format is a faily big part of this poem, which is why it may not make sense...

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