Here is how it goes.
You count and count.
You fill and fill, all the way up until
you spill out of yourself.
The ache starts in your chest and it's
a sinking feeling
then a gripping, slipping, wound sealing feeling.
how many times have you prophesied pain today?
how many times did you take away all your chances?
I know. I believe you.
You forget how good it feels, right?
Let's make it all better.
Let your nails turn blue and your brain pulse
and let yourself slow to a stop.
Your lungs have too much air, right?
You're too filled up, right?
Okay, let's make it all better.
We'll stop the count and the feeling.
You can go now.
Take your poor heart with you.
love overflowing
By staylovely2
grief is a knife to the neck; an aching scar More