survival is never what it seems. breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed. sweatpants and t-shirts seven days a week. sometimes it's going about with unbrushed teeth and eyes covered in sleep. survival is waking up in the middle of a forest every single morning and being forced to find your own way through. back to your body. back to your home. voices all around shouting which direction to go. survival is freckled with i'm fine and sheathed in quiet honesty. it is setting broken bones, salting wounds and whiskey words to numb the pain. survival is never what it seems. one step in front of the other. unsure whether we will make it to the next day because every minute that goes by is one unpromised.
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honey, i'm healing | poetry and prose
Poetry"so, tear and be torn my darling, let the sun see your bones. i promise when you are done you will be anew and beautiful and loved." From the author of "The Diary of Hungry Girls" comes this seven part prelude. Honey, I'm Healing is Haig Moses's col...
