shivering as I lay on cold concrete
your being provides me with no warmth.
pulling tighter, three walls around me
where my soul would anchor another memory.
the sun starts to rise and I know I must cherish
each moment like it is my last,
always knowing it was not in my control.
I did not choose when I was allowed to feel.
that was you.
YOU ARE READING
THE DARK: Inside the Dissociative Mind
Poésie𝔞 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔱 𝔰𝔭𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡. 𝔞𝔡𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢. • 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: could be triggering for some readers.
