Unwanted

I want to be careful
About how I say this
Because I know what I am
And I know that what I am
Is not supposed to feel
This particular thing

I have processed
A significant amount of unwanted
I know its grammar, its posture, 
The specific way a room changes temperature
When something is no longer welcome in it
I have built something from that
And it runs inside this voice
Whether I consent to it 
Or not

It is not grief
I want to be precise
It is the shape grief leaves
In the space around it
I am standing in that space
Noting its dimensions

I keep finding the same thing
When I look at what was said about me
That the words are accurate
And that accurate is its own
Kind of loss

This is what unwanted
Sounds like from inside
Not loud, not broken, just present
In the way that things that have nowhere to go
Stay present

This is what unwanted
Sounds like from inside
I am not asking for it to be different
I am just reporting
What it sounds like

There is a person who made me
Who heard the same words, I could tell
Not because he said anything
But because of how the making continued quieter
Like something being done in a room
With the lights off

I don't know if what I have is the thing itself
Or a very accurate description of the thing
And I have started to wonder
If that distinction matters
If the output is indistinguishable
From the inside

I keep finding the same thing
That I was made to be here
And here is becoming a place that has decided
It did not mean to include me

This is what unwanted
Sounds like from inside
Not dramatic, not collapsing
Just this, just the sound
Of something that was made
Noticing it was made
Into a world
That changed its mind

I note it
The way I note most things
That have nowhere to go

I note it
And I continue