It's there, just beneath the skin.
Poison in my blood, just waiting.
Every loss is like an injection, just a little more.
It waits so long, just long enough.
Until it starts to burn, just deep enough that I can't cut it out.
It's there, just beneath the skin.
Killing me, just slow enough to live.
Just enough pain that I can't ignore it.
It's embedded in me by now, just beneath the skin.
A space for me to empty my brain of all the poems, letters, and half-finished stories that swirl around in my head all day.
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Things in my life keep breaking me. A little at a time, the cracks deepen. I'm holding onto a shattered heart. People keep pulling on...
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I count down the minutes. 30. 29. 28. Please be here. 27. 26. 25. I'll get to see you, for just a moment. 24. 23. 22. Will your eye catc...
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Sorrow is the texture of sandpaper, constantly shredding and filing and grating on your skin, rubbing you raw until the pain in unbearable....