to wounds that refuse to heal

by 01:25 0 comments
It hits you in waves, 
all of this pain, 
you keep trying to drown it, 
but it keeps coming up for air, 
always when you least expect it to, 
and it’s too damn overwhelming. 
you’re in a room full of 20 people
and that’s all that you can think of. 
you make the world out of little things, 
and constellations out of punctuation marks, 
so on days the stars refuse to shine, 
and the sky looks a little too empty, 
you remember all the days you spent
wishing for what you do not have today, 
it’s too hard to accept this,
you keep thinking you weren’t ready for this, 
that you aren’t ready right now. 

And some days, you delude yourself into believing 
that it never really happened, 
on others, you wish it hadn’t. 
but then it hits you when 
you’re in your kitchen making a sandwich for yourself, 
or you’re driving on your way home,
or you're home, in all of this silence, 
when you’re pretending to forget all that it reminds you of. 
sometimes, you have to stop trying to drown your pain, 
and let it drown you.
let it go. 

_to wounds that refuse to heal.

National Poetry Writing Month, day 14.


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