It was only after I stepped forwards that I've found
You're not healthy for me
You speak kindly to fill my void
To give me the optimism to hold on
But here in the now they become empty
There is space between the bed
And a numbness to our hugs
Maybe your dictators have finally come between us
But I'd like to think it's just time
Or maybe my mind, which locks away the pleasure I take from living
Either way we're here twiddling our thumbs
In wanting of a new inside joke, a new fixation
Because God forbid we be still
I'm not scared anymore
Which isn't progress when you're pretending to exist
We're going down hill in the most inconvenient of moments
But maybe it's the product of a soul out of time
Mine
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Healing
PoetryShe's not okay, but writing it down helps. - Part I: It's time to rip off the band-aid. Poems: slam, traditional, free-verse. The first twenty are not up to par with the others, but this is an ongoing journey so I feel the need to include them...
