The sun sets golden,
filtered through the dust covered windows.
It promotes peace
as the shadows of the day loom to a close,
and darkness settles in
for a long night of quiet.
But all I feel is cold,
a stirring, bubbling inside my chest,
below my heart and above my stomach,
it quivers and aches
it makes my soul palpitate.
Uneven breaths over uneven nerves
nothing is quiet, nothing is still.
I cannot breathe, it moves me so.
My calm is severed,
my line to this world untethered
my vision is broken and slow.
Slow are my actions,
slower than the quickness of my thoughts
and my breaths
and my heartbeat.
Slow is the calm
I so desperately wish to enter me.
I wish I could be the sun,
streaming through dust covered windows.
I wish I could be the gentle evening
greeting the softest of nights,
but I am stuck in this state
of restlessness and torment,
and my heart will continue to beat recklessly
and my lungs will continue to breathe unevenly
and my hands will continue to shake
and my thoughts will continue to race
and I will continue to be afraid.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
The Listening
PoesiaA collection of half-way poetry, full of words better left unsaid.
