Sunrise or Sunset; The Garden of Hugs

Aquilegia vulgaris

Tears gliding down cheeks as you clutch at your heart.

So fervently, so unwavering.

Fingernails like scalpels as you dig them past your sternum and ribs.

Clutching at the warm beating organ in your chest.

You've done this for a long while.

All through your younger years.

Told that you weren't old enough to understand.

When truthfully you did.

Empty, unfulfilled, unwanted it seemed.

Selfish perhaps.

Liquid sorrow slipping down your cheeks.

The pitiful sight of sniffling your snot into your ruddy nose.

An ache that was everlasting it seemed.

A billion and one things to be heartbroken by.

Bent to the point of eternal internal screams.

Voicing them did nothing.

You could scream so loud and push your voice so far.

So far that you'd lose your voice for good.

Burst vessels in your voice box.

Damage nerves in the fleshy folds beyond comprehension.

Clog them with polyps.

You understand.

I know you must understand.

Bent so far that you weren't afraid to die alone.

To die at all.

This omnipresent feeling.

Every direction that you turn.

This hurt deep down inside you.

Is something you've always understood.

Never not old enough to understand.

Seems always I'm here.

Everlasting just to you.