The Guilt

There’s a guilt that comes with some of the wanting,
a guilt that wasn’t earned but still haunting
every corner of the desire, the guilt
that somebody sewed into the quilt
of my upbringing, the guilt
that was taught not grown, but built.

The guilt doesn’t serve the desire or the truth,
the guilt is just the residue of youth
being taught to carry it, and I work
at putting it down, at the attempt to shirk
the guilt that doesn’t belong to the desire,
the guilt is not mine but it lives in the fire.

I’m working on the guilt as a project of mine,
I’m undoing the guilt that crossed the line
into my desire without any right.
I’m taking the guilt out of the night
of the physical, one small piece at a time.
The guilt doesn’t belong in this rhyme.

The guilt in the wanting, the uninvited guest,
the guilt in the wanting, it won’t let me rest.
The guilt in the wanting comes without cause,
the guilt in the wanting is somebody else’s laws.