I realize it's a hard thing to do-
To listen in between the lines of what I am saying, to hear what I am not saying.
But believe me, there's more I'm telling you there than in any plain, blatant speech.
I realize that when I'm in bed, in between my blankets and the only respite my medicated mind is forced to give me-
To you, it looks like I've checked out.
I have not checked out. Not of the things I wish I could.
In between my blank stares and my painted smiles, there are things I'm screaming.
In between setting aside my problems to focus on yours and my complete absorption by things that mean nothing to you-
I'm raw from the way it chafes to hold back.
In between my doses, my appointments, my good and bad days, in between every crack you may or may not be able to see, there are things I wish you knew. Things I want to tell you. Things I will never bring up. Things I want you to ask about. Things I want you to love me in spite of.
In between my despair and my fear of chasing you away, my desperation lives. And it lives so very, very silently.
YOU ARE READING
I Bleed Galaxies: An Ode To Battle Scars
PoésiePoetry. Prose. Bursts of thought. Stream of consciousness. Perfectly planned stories. Moments of pain, and moments of triumph. Utter isolation and all consuming celebration. My illnesses, my demons, myself. An attempt at mapping my mind. Cover by @B...
