contain
I still contain
every ounce of devastation
life has ever wrought upon me.
Oh, I say
“we can dump it out.”
But the truth is
we grow—
(some of us)
larger
more spacious
to contain all that and more
which is why
it feels different in the morning.
And the truth is
we shrink
(some of us)
trying to shrink the pain
but it can never
be smaller and,
bearing down,
it can only fill up
all we are.