The Weight I Never Set Down

Feeling like a burden to your loved ones is a weight that is the heaviest..

The Weight I Never Set Down

I apologize before I speak,
as if my breath costs someone else air.
I measure my words in teaspoons,
afraid even honesty is too heavy.

I fold myself smaller in doorways,
learn how to carry my needs in my pockets,
loose change that rattles
but is never spent.

When I ask for help,
my voice arrives already guilty.
I promise I won’t stay long,
won’t ask twice,
won’t need more than I deserve—
whatever that is.

I confuse love with tolerance,
mistake silence for grace.
If they don’t leave,
I call it kindness,
not realizing how low I’ve set the bar
for being allowed to exist.

Some days I imagine setting myself down—
not disappearing,
just resting without apology.
Letting the world decide
if my weight was ever the problem,
or if I was simply taught
to carry it alone.