the icy thorn of the bush bites my thumb
and i am mesmerized by the oozing red droplet of crystal blood;
i am awakened from my state of zombified days and see the world anew;
the winds are frozen with the chattering cold and swirls of snow
and the last tips of green on the trees
are beginning to frost over for the tundra of winter;
i can hear the coming of the seasons
from the sharpness this prick of pain brings me
the affliction heightens my senses and i feel more alive;
i love the cold rain that falls onto my skin in great gasps of drops
and the drizzle that sprinkles my cheeks
i cannot bring myself to cry,
but the sky knows that this will do;
i wonder, do you ever feel an overwhelming sort of sadness?
the kind the repeating, repetitive days bring when a pattern of nothing is pursued?;
i do, constantly and consistently
and it tears my hair and head apart
yet,
this mishap of my hand onto a thorn
reminds me
that if i were to step outside of the known and experience the discomfort of new
i will feel and see imaginings i never knew;
a magic of the solstice and a walk off the cut path;
alas, that is for another day, for i am tired
i crave the change but have no energy for the pursuit,
and there is tomorrow (i hope);
thus, for now, i stick my thumb into my mouth and suck away the ruby drop, the copper giving me goosebumps of disgusted delight;
the change is easy to crave, but harder to taste
YOU ARE READING
𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬
Poetryif only you knew the love i felt, the beauty i crave, the darkness i bring - would you long for me, then? {❦} = personal favorites of mine
