05.03.22
22:00
Sometimes my chest feels like it carries a million broken branches, and a tree trunk caresses through the rest of my body, carrying all of the fragmented parts. Sometimes it feels like nothing grows inside of me anymore, especially on the days that I ache. I think if I were a tree I would be a willow tree because their leaves are always falling down, down, down. Sometimes I get so down that I Google things like "counting a trees annual rings" and "the deeper meaning of elongated leaves." I think if I Google these things, I will be distracted from my own feelings, and instead, be well equipped with the knowledge I need to heal. Sometimes I think if I carry the pain for long enough it will go away. But I am starting to realize that the pain may not ever go away, but maybe that is not the point. Like some nights, there is a heaviness inside of me, and I imagine arms around me that are not mine. Sometimes I am not even sure who those arms belong to, but I know they are safe and they do not leave me. And when I lay on my pillow, it feels soft, and the pillowcase holds it all together. Sometimes I write poems about how much I hate the people who have hurt me, but the truth is, I would forgive most of them for almost anything. That is probably a bad character trait I should work on. Sometimes my chest feels hollow, fragile, something that can either break or is already broken. Sometimes I want to stick my hand into my chest and put all the pieces back together, because I don't know when it happened, but something inside of me broke at 22, and I never got it back.
YOU ARE READING
words don't come that easy.
PoetryI've tried. but i've always failed to contain these thousand words in a few sentences, maybe im bad at expressing macro feelings in the few words that I'm limited to. you might think you know me enough because it's been a long time since i first wav...
