My hands fumble in the dark / corners and my mind is dripping— / dripping / the iris rummaging through every / frame / piece by / piece / even the smooth skin is crying / the soft cool sheets / hide with fear, / the spring mattress wrought and warm / with questions and suddenly— / a jolt of static / my lids popping open, / broken breath / air that's not even air / anymore / my fist is still / shaking / its just me, / in this room / an open space / that never felt this tight / nothing but / me, sweat, / bags under my eyes, / and nobody else / nobody this time.
I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I'm aw
YOU ARE READING
Black Silence
PoetryThis is a world of dreams. Each poem, except for the first and last, depicts a dream that I have had. This is a battle of four years of emotional abuse, anxiety, and the steep but slow route to recovery. This is my world. Credit for the cover goes t...
