This is a personal documentation through poetry.
I am learning to look inward now, give myself love when I least want to. I do not live to love others, I live to love myself. I will find and create what is enough for me, and you will learn to let it...
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I am breaking slightly at the rise of each morning. The sun comes pouring through the slats, The pillows piled on top of me are thrown to the floor. I give a kiss, then get one. But the silence still shakes my skull. No news is playing in the living room; No dogs barking erratically; No family waking one by one.
I am broken by week's end, and by nighttime I am in tears. There isn't a soul that understands the butchers knife in my back, and how it got there. If I could scoop up everyone in the palm of my hands and drop them back into my life, I would. For I am the loneliest I have ever felt. I prepared myself in every way but one. My heart can't handle being so forsaken.
I took my clutter with me, And I'll take it anywhere I go. The path ahead of me is sharp, And I am an entire family of paper and string. I am a family stuffed into one woman's body, And the silence is breaking me every morning.
