i cut my arm today.
i was cooking vegetables
and it was a mistake;
but i cut my arm today.
and then i let it bleed,
my blood creating pools
on the floor for me;
with tiny droplets
adding to its stream...
and all i could think was
if i collect enough blood tonight
then maybe i can trade it
for the whole of you for one time.
i think it was your mom who found me,
my eyes devoid of tears and blood.
i could see her look at me,
the way i look at nemo's dory.
but how could i tell her
that i was okay?
that i wasn't alright
but i was still okay?
YOU ARE READING
7 Weeks Without You ✓
PoetryGrief is a five letter word but the turbulence it creates can last as much as five years, maybe even more. 7 Weeks Without You is not a story, but a state. Each week reflects one stage of grief: grief for the death of your loved one. Genre: Poetry ...
