As I run through these meadows
enjoying
the freedom the great outdoors offer
I think of
all the rooms in which I stood
hoping to fit in
All they've
taught me
was how to
hide
and dress
myself in armour
Excusing
myself and explaining why
you
wouldn't love me anyway
yet at the
same time
yearning to
hear these words
"You
are loved just as you are,
stand your
ground, you are enough."
Searching
for a connection
yet closing
myself in solitude
Fearing
abandonment
asking
"why must I be?"
How deep
the river flows?
How deep do
the wounds reach?
Sadness
gets comfortable
like a
second skin
but so does
anger
- showing
us where it hurts,
if we pause
to hear it speak
And not throw it around,
for it grows and multiplies
If you could sell your memories,
would you?
Would it
hurt less not to feel them
but feel
the numbness of them gone
living a
life of their own on the pages?
We're never
finished, always falling and rising
it's only
in darkness that we see the light
The person
we were exists somewhere in time
You're gone
but not actually gone
the image
of you interchanges
Some people
never leave -
names
linger in the chambers of our hearts
like
memories behind a tombstone
They've
left, but not actually left
souls hang
on to each other,
intertwined.
*
Inspired by book Binding by Bridget Collins.
