Parasite (poem)

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The host is always the last to know.
It starts as a small seed in the chest,
planted the moment you look at someone else
and feel a sudden, cold hunger.
Envy is a guest that never leaves.
it sits at your table and eats your peace,
whispering that their sunlight
is the reason for your shadow.

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You begin to breathe for two.
You carry your anger like a heavy coat
in the middle of summer-
it doesn't protect you, it only makes you sweat.
draining the water from your spirit
until you are dry and brittle.
We hold onto old hurts
as if they were prizes.
We let the memory of a ghost
dictate how we move in the present,
feeding our energy to a past
that has no blood of its own.
In the end, you forget where you stop
And the bitterness begins.
You are a house owned by its shadows,
starving in a room full of food,
because you gave your appetite away
to a feeling that can never be full.
You are the hand that feeds the thing that eats you-
Parasite