the heart wants, mine too much. it calls for something that isn't theirs, and all i can do is bear the pain. nobody teaches you how to love, how to hate, how to feel. how to control. they throw you out to learn, and maybe i haven't yet, not fully. but it's too late.
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it's constant trips to the doctor's nowadays, and i return home with news of the results, not being able to brace myself. the only armor i was given was my words, petty things that don't get out too often because i can't i can't i can't and they won't they won't they won't. maybe it's me, maybe it's them.
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there's a dull ache, but it's a constant one, always right there, reminding me of what i've failed to do or what i've done wrong. perhaps he loves her now, perhaps he doesn't, but i can't distinguish it. not with my heart like this and an anchor in my stomach.
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yearning. it's all it is. the healthy family, the unconditional love, the promised happy ending. but yearning doesn't get you anywhere; you have to do. the only problem is that i don't know how to start.
- WANTING IS AN EXTREMITY [ALTERNATIVELY NAMED: HELPMEICANTREATHE - 8.25.16]
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PoetryLIKE THEM; the cunning, the strong, the rational, the sensual, the rash. POE19 [151016]
