September 29th, 2021
I feel a crazed grip against my throat, a trembling hand that doesn't know any better. It shakes me around until I decide to fight back. But it is the choices I make that strangle my peace. It is my shovel in hand, and my digging in process. The hole I'm destined to fall in is a hole of a my creation. Of course I feel this way. What more can a woman like me expect, so slow on the uptake? I've built this bridge, now I must cross it. I've dug this hole, now I must fill it. I've hurt your heart, but what do I do with that? The fingers of my hands shake, and the whites of my eyes grow. Tears stream down my face at the thought of being alone again. I cannot fathom another loss as heavy as this, please, please don't make it so. I'll come up with something-do anything-to heal your hurting heart.
R.K.
YOU ARE READING
Holeheart
PoëzieI am the forgiver. I am the destroyer. I'm not at fault, but I deserve to be. Poetry and Prose Volume V 2021 DISCONTINUED
