Weight on the chest
Wet cheeks, the more you dry them, the more they drip
Despair
A hope vacuum connected to your heart, turned on high,
It never gets clogged, it just keeps sucking everything good out of you
Everything is broken,
Like a fragile tea cup you bought at an antique store,
The pieces are so small you can't possibly glue them all back together again,
They lay on the floor where you are sure to step on them tomorrow
2 comments:
I love you.
You have a way, my dear, of capturing the dark. I am so grateful for you. You give a voice to places inside of me that I've never been able to express.
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