by Rachel Gearinger
The roofer drops a yellow cord into the tree
& I think about soaking in bleach
Last night, I had to convince my brain
everything’s alright
A regular occurrence
unlike pouring a cup of coffee
Something fell from me,
and I haven’t reached down to pick it up,
or maybe I can’t reach
anymore, maybe my arms
aren’t strong enough
I am the girl sobbing,
mouth gaping, snot bubbling;
Look at me. Memorize this face.
Peer into my mouth and see
what I am made of
cracking eggshells
crashing down
I am messy and uncertain,
but I am real
Change happens more often than not
and no one stops to ask
how tiring it is
I am the one you heard
on the news, in passing
headlines screaming
oversimplifications
Terrified of dreams
that can’t be deciphered,
that feel more real than reality
One thing is not like the other,
they say to my face or
behind a keyboard
Each word a pinprick
& soon I start to see
through the holes in my skin
Apologies fall from my mouth
like rotten food
no one wants to see
There is an unmistakable metallic smell,
menstrual blood or iron bars
and a fine line between normal and insane
I lay in the bath tub
and turn on the hot water until it hurts
Falling feels like becoming
someone completely different
All I ask is:
Be quiet and hold me
Just let me feel it.
How common it is to forget that last bit in the rush to fix the brokenness or run from it.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Read to the end and hear.
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