Distant words beating with the force of a quake
compressing a fragile heart until there remains only pulp,
in the end — if it’s the end?
More than them finding out —
crumbling facade revealed to prying eyes —
instead dreading a conclusion stated with finality.
While bleeding heart holds desperately to hope,
anxious brain gnaws hungrily on the sorrow coated ‘What ifs’
Disoriented thoughts plague waking moments,
invading dreams tormented by vivid images
waking. . . GASPING! —
I can feel my breath catch inside a chest that's weighted,
making me want to vomit at the sense of lingering desolation.
Even while holding on there’s a part full of cruel whispers:
says you’ve given up on us,
tossed away our love like a stained jacket;
And that soon nothing will stop the nightmares of
fucking y o u
from becoming reality.
Ignoring that voice fools panicked mind into thinking positively,
while another hollowly points out that it’d be over
if even a single one of those haunting moments became. . . real
Devastation would wreck already fragile self-confidence —
And I, I would be left a husk riddled by heartache,
nothing to hold me together as I fall into the open arms of grief.
|The page of a female writer, the oldest of five children, who has Rheumatoid Arthritis. She loves reading and writing among many other varying interests, and is always multi-tasking, keeping herself entertained, and enduring the curse of a million different tabs open in her browser at any one time. You can find me on Twitter [@windmillstilt] or Facebook [totiltwithwindmills], and at the linked blog site as well! My work is shared here and on Wattpad.|