comfortable silence- a collection of poems

bleeding (tw, ed)

never have i been more grateful

for a week of bleeding

than in mid-July,

when i sat on the floor of my bathtub

and filled it to the brim with my tears.

my body had been so empty

that it couldn't even spare blood,

with the fear of losing anymore.

i was so empty

that i couldn't even fill

with the very thing that courses through me.

seven months of pain

seven months of loss

seven months of nothing

but numbers filling my stomach

instead of a strawberry.

seven months of staying up

doing sit-ups until i thought i'd die.

seven months of pushing

pushing

pushing.

seven months of pain.

finally, i thought. my body is re-learning healthy.

and that is a beautiful, terrifying thing.

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