"I hope you get to see this one day:
Your spine printed on the surface
of your bed like a footprint on the moon.
Maybe even see it as a reminder
that you still belonged to the places
where you thought you were not meant
to breathe, underestimating your own
pair of lungs as though your mom
did not attach oxygen tanks and first aid kits
on the left side of your chest just in case
you have your heart stuck between doors
and nobody knocks you out.
Or if somebody did, they stepped on your feet
without an apology before leaving. It hurt, I know.
It hurt more than a bee sting on the same spot
for three hundred and sixty five days and deep.
But that bed is not named after him,
nor to the sound he made when he fell asleep.
And you will lie down one day, closing your eyes
and asking yourself if he deserved the light
you gave him. But by then you will remember
it doesn't really matter, because you will be
staring at the sun that you are and you've
always been, before he came in knocking."
-Kharla M. Brillo
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryThis is a poetry book made from people who request to put their own poems in here to any poem I find online. It is made for people to share and express their thoughts and emotions. *NONE OF THESE POEMS BELONG TO ME* (REQUESTS ARE CLOSE)
