Baggage

Heavy suitcase—

with dresses, makeup I’ve worn,

trying to be beautiful at last.

Larger panties

from comfort eating.

Sweatshirts to warm me,

though I can’t be warmed.

Chocolate,

because I’ve needed sweetness.

A hardcover journal, pens

to record all the unkind words—

so I don’t forget,

and because my journal

is the only one who cares.

Clutter filling my mind—

surely I left something behind.

A pillow,

reprieve from constant fatigue.

Antidepressants,

to help me feel better.

Gifts for the kids,

because love has a price.

A plush Siamese cat,

so I’m not alone.

A paisley scarf

to silence me—

that makes him happy.

Extended, filled to capacity.

No room for self-worth,

nor joy.

A struggle to carry,

impossible to fully unpack.