This is Only getting Harder.

Written by Kester Henrick

I play the doctor.
You come to me only when you need to talk.
and I listen.
and take notes.
and when I show you an ink blot and ask you what it is, you say:
"I love him."
and we'll talk.
You'll tell me everything.
and I will ask you, "How do you feel about that?"
and you say, "I'm not crawling back to him."
Yet you'll make another appointment for a later time.
Paid in full by your tears.
I'll see you again when you need me.

and I'll walk back to my office and read what I've written, always the same thing with each visit.
This poem.
and I'll pull out the ink blot from my bottom drawer and look at it.
My heart.