i am beyond wrecked.
beyond the Titanic in all it's glory,
beyond the Hindenburg's fiery descent.
i am not wrecked because of sadness
or loneliness
or perhaps even hatred.
no. i am wrecked by happiness.
waves of joy in multitudes have come at last
and this ship has been sunk to the depths of ecstasy.
the fire deep in my belly has come forth and exploded me into a rupturing inferno.
i can't say i'm the happiest i've ever been,
but i can say that this last boost of euphoria
may be the closest i'll be getting in a long while.
no matter.
it is not the lows that define me,
but what i do with the highs.
but for now...
i guess you could say that
i am wrecked.
YOU ARE READING
petrichor
Poetrypet·ri·chor /ˈpeˌtrīkôr/ noun a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.