I Am Enough

I always have a cowlick standing straight up like Alfalfa.

Another day has passed and I have yet to put away the laundry.
My husband waits patiently for me to come home so we can eat

dinner together, but I already ate.

Even though I keep meaning to practice yoga, the mat is folded

on top of all the books without a shelf.

No matter what I say, I still struggle with anxiety.
Oftentimes, I’m too tired to be a good friend or wife or lover.
Underneath all the smiles and all the kind words, I’m still

fighting my depression.

God, I can’t even think straight most days.
How come I never feel like…enough?

Love Poem XIV

You ask me questions, and my heart opens like the rusty cover of an old book that hasn’t been read in ages.

You touch my shoulder, and all of me falls apart, like well-read, favorite pages where the dog-ears start falling off after too many years of bending but never breaking.

You tell me it’s okay to feel my pain, and admit my hurt, and I can’t help but thinking of my favorite passages from a book, and how I always thought those words were saved for fiction.

You hold me in your arms, and though my cover weakens, and falters, I know I will stay together, because, like the old book, someone loves me enough to keep me forever.