Therapeutic

Sometimes when I tell you
that my thoughts feel like iridescent tulle,
referring
to a deep awareness of my very own
psychological inclemency, you say
Go to a psychiatrist, please -as if,
it was the only panacea.

There is liberation in the spoken word,
I realize.

You say, I may be choking
on my imaginings.
You say, I glorify depression.
You say, I cage my animosities.
Without understanding,
that I have feared Love,
since childhood,
the way I always did
an undetectable malignancy.