The Words, The Colors, The Sun

Low and low, I sink

lo and behold, I crumble.

Mary Oliver

I just read “each time you open a book and read, a tree smiles knowing there's life after death”and OH MY GOD

I belong to none,

not these extended hands,

the rosey skies,

or the bloodied battlegrounds in my name.

I belong to none other than myself

but know not which one in particular

I may not love myself on most days

but I definitely would not let you either.

I write this with

melancholic music

blasting in my ears.

It's comfortable,

relatable.

It's hopeless,

as I long to be.

Too many insights. Too many realizations. Long way to go. Sit tight. 🫠

How do I make someone understand

just how much I have to fight everyday?

That I'm perpetually at war with my brain

that I don't let myself lean on anyone but myself

even if it makes the fire harder to extinguish

but isn't that what I really want?

To burn and burn

and burn.

it's breaking me to cry for nothing

no one

something I never had

and probably never would

it's a longing that has no end

no reason

- after a negative pregnancy test

Trying to not to be afraid of this energy. One of the days when I feel sorry for myself. Sigh.

I'm tired of this ritual

again I write with disdain,

my heart is heavy with sorrow

perpetually drowning in pain.