sometimes I don’t understand if they know what its like at the docks of my brain. the skinny frayed edges of amusement and darkness. where I walk and catch myself either about to jump or too scared to even want anything but comfort. the mushy soft circumference of arms, overbearing weight of affection. all things i come close to and never want to touch, except inside these white walls. inside where the edge promises breakthrough, justice, and peace. what is this irony. where is her plot.
Posted 3 months ago with 1 noteTags: poem poetry life personal love loss hurt
View Notes
-
leaveyouapen liked this
-
journalthetrees posted this
