[writing] NoPoWriMo Poem #3

You cry too much
he says,
you take it too much to heart.
It’s true, I know.
My heart is an open door, the least thing
strikes me to the core, I cry
at commercials, for god’s sake,
some part of me tasting the sorrow like
fine wine, some part of me liking
the ache in my throat. Grief
can be an addiction, can be a kind
of answer to the persistance of tragedy.
Negation through acceptance, submission that
never ends. Turning over and over
in my mind old pain like a stone
worn smooth and gleaming.