Argh, You! Poem by Lillian P.k

A balloon in my stomach,
sloshing in tangy goop.
Someone pressing on a
week old bruise,
mocking. Frustrated tears
running down my taught cheekbones
like a perspiring runner. An
iron fist squeezing my innards, not caring
how it makes me dry retch.

Then numbness.

I don't care anymore,
or so I tell myself.
A mistake, you will I grow from.

What is love after all?
Why do I, 'we', or life really mean? And why does that meaning matter?

Argh!