Traveling became my hobby.
It is how I remind myself that I am alive,
and that life did not actually end
when my home left.
Almost like a lost child,
walking aimlessly, barefoot,
just trying to return
to where I used to be.
Let the hunger rumble in,
let tiredness occupy my mind,
and I welcome the bruises.
It is how I forget you—
how I forget the open wound
your shut mouth created.
But as terrible as it sounds,
decay settled in,
and it is still a long way
back to the person I used to be.
So I need to heal.
Even though this shredded flesh
was the only thing you left me with,
I cannot let the decay consume me.
I cannot let it replace you.
I cannot let it erase you.
So I will.
YOU ARE READING
Dazed Off
Poezja𝑰 𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒕; 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚... 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕. A collection of poems...
