;
speech in rambles,
thoughts entangled,
life in shambles.
when tear-stained cheeks become tear-drenched pillowcases
and the once seasonal streams spouting from your soul become ever-flowing rivines that pool into a moat around your neck.
when sorrows blossom from the fertile river beds which you seemed to visit each night in search of the peace your own never provided you.
losing sleep as if it were misplaced
yet the search hasn't ended, not for many days
the exact amount, one may ask
but you've lost count
the sunrises and sunsets blur into one until you're unable to recall whether the day ended or it had simply begun.
1, 2, 3, 4
you counted as the tears multiplied into more
5, 6, 7, 8
you added to a tally so high it rivalled the number of stars adorning the night sky
9, 10, 11, 12
you began to ponder the understated beauty the tear-spotted satin beneath your face held
your very own make-shift little night sky, present sometimes even while the biggest, brightest star of all shone outside;
attached to it an emotion that fills you as swiftly as sonder,
your world's ninth wonder.
YOU ARE READING
SEMICOLONS
Poetry; in which she dies a thousand deaths without flatlining. - all rights reserved.
