when all that remains is guilt ("phone poems" 1 of 3)

when all that remains
is guilt,
the bed is not made,
the room is not clean,
and the only reality i know
is that of a dark shadow
holding me like a weight to the floor,
telling me why
i am not worthy of another
why
i am not worth taking care of,
why
i am not worth the right
to this gift called life.

sure, they forgive,
but i never forget,
and i never forgive myself.

-lj
22 may 2018