The Anatomy of Living!
I could trace every inch of this room,
the way it stitches itself
to my skin, as if bound
by the threads of old days,
unraveling silently as I move.
You would not know it,
but the air here tastes
like chalk, brittle and crumbling
on the tongue.
A legacy of the words left unspoken,
ghosted in the space between walls,
humming at the edges of syllables.
There is a rhythm to it,
like counting breaths
in the stillness, as if each inhale
is a promise you intend
to break, a pact with the lungs
that says yes, I am here,
though I cannot say why
or how much longer
I intend to stay.
I remember the way my mother's hands
moved over the cracked spine
of a book,
Her fingers
tracing the seam as if
she could stitch it back together,
as if the binding were not
a fragile thing.
She taught me that
some things, even broken,
are worth holding onto,
not because they are whole
but because--
They Mean so much to Us.
___________________________
Thank you so much for your time ♥️
Yours Isa...
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Approbation of an Irrational Heart ( Poetry Collection)
Poetrypoetry collection#random thoughts# driving deep inside the dark abyss# penning to understand myself and others# sometimes emotions, sometimes longing, sometimes random thoughts jumping out of my reverie. Ongoing....
