Jun 9
I gripped my hair at the back of my skull.
Drawing my elbows impossibly closer to each other.
My mouth opened in a paused gape,
My throat constricted, eyes squeezing shut.
But no sound passed my lips.
Despite wishing to allow it,
To let out that frustrated scream,
I didn't.
I pressed my arms tighter around my head.
Bringing my chin to my chest.
And then I let go.
I released my hold, my grip.
And for a moment, just a single moment,
There was a relief.
Of pressure, of life.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry For The Lost People
Poesía365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
