My memory is hazy. I seize to remember what I did last night. I have not seen myself in days- my reflection I mean. I mean I have not seen my eyes. I mean. I could if I wanted to but that would be vein. Isn't it vein if I look at myself. Especially vein if I do that expecting to see beauty? I know what I look like. He told me. Snake told me I am beautiful to him this way.
YOU ARE READING
Hold my Hand
PoetryMy goal is to share what I wish I knew about trauma and healing in order to make your journey less confusing. I have to begin by telling you that there are no magic words or wisdom to make the pain of trauma disappear. There is only you and your com...
