i am something very gentle, very jealous
of the selfless way my heart pumps blood
for my ungrateful body,
of how the bones in my spine uplift my head,
despite how i insist we're crumbling,
we're crumbling,
always crying over spilled milk,
when i could be strong
like stainless steel or spider silk,
when i could be kevlar
instead of the honeycombed human
digging out bullets,
when i could be the tornado
instead of Dorothy missing Kansas,
when i could be a bone-dry Martini
instead of the one retching,
when i could be something like you,
the shoulder to lean on
and not the one reeling,
the one picking up eggshells
and never the one breaking.
YOU ARE READING
melancholia in the milky way
Poetrymelancholia in the milky way is a poetry collection carved from misery and heartbreak; it is loving and being loved through the hardships, and it is searching the turmoil for specks of hope with a telescope. i'll post snippets here, but the full boo...
