Scorpio Moon

13 Drafts in the Sea of Self-Doubt
I am crying out
In isolation, the poet in me speaks
through endless couplets, circling

I write these word with a dirty face
self-care is scarce some days
but through this lack I see cold, hard truths

scorpio moon, you absolute psychosis inducing
temptress of tantrums
of power, lust, desire, needs

never to be fulfilled, only fed
made fat and throbbing
pulsating like a wound you can’t keep clean

illuminating all things left unseen in the brighter light
you shine, you luminous shrine
when I’m feeling bitter, I collapse in your sight

you, lady luna, you love to see me cry
release the fears and hurts from the ducts in my eyes
and I, I don’t know why, I resist, run, and hide

when I can feel the well of pain deep inside
it just hurts to dig deep sometimes, brene brown
to find the compassion and courage I’ve been doing without

no chance to shine my light in the ways I am used to,
grown accustomed to growing so tall
being told my strengths gives the feeling of reaching into the clouds

vulnerability feels like a knife in my side
it did then, too, when I had to use it every day in the real world
feeling like a spectacle, a fawn vying to keep legs straight and grounded

my heart would race as danger was certainly near
fear of failure swept from my cranium to my crossed ankles
the anxiety of being too much or not enough,
still haunts, still trickles through synovial fluid
clenched jaw, shoulders rise to kiss my ears where they don’t belong