speaking fractured poetry -
This is how it feels, I decide,
to be fixed - no longer
building night on the inside,
but succumbing to fantastical de-
constructions, marvelling at the map
of binary constellations written
under my skin. To feel no fear
staring wide-eyed at the sun,
at old letters of rejection or
even my reflection. Knowing
she's near; understanding she's un-
done.
This is how it feels to be whole:
to watch my breath thin
and bend the glass geometry
of these bottled skies eastward
to collect the sunrise. To memorise
the way the light builds and breaks,
and to love every lost second,
each heartache.
And this is how it feels, I realise,
to sit and cry for days,
when you can only sleep
for seconds, minutes. Defiance:
knowing the weight of the world
is heavy as god, but
beautiful as her insides.
* * *
One day, I'll feel this. All of it.
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