The Sojourner

Self-destruction creeps in—

always when happiness dares to rest on my bruised eyelids.

That sudden fear wraps around my throat,

and I don’t fight it.

I let it squeeze.

like a snake

slowly

wrapping itself around

its prey.

It coils—tight, deliberate, patient.

Not to kill.

but to remind me

that nothing good stays untouched.

Control is a lover with fangs

and I keep kissing its mouth.