It creeps out at night,
slowly unravels the tightly guarded hatred.
Wide-awake.
Replaying each scenario. A picture show of loathing.
These feet have made some wrong turns.
These hands have let go.
A burden of guilt has nestled in this rib cage.
Hidden. For no one.
Memories burn this face with shame. Awkward
silence.
Better off dead. They whisper. Someday.
By day- perfection.
Graceful. Elegant. False.
Author
silencer
When your mother dies in your arms from the common flu you’re never the same. It is true what they say about being able to tell when a person’s soul leaves their body. Their eyes glaze over. They become unfocused black pools. It’s not a major event. It’s very tiny but it’s life changing. They say you go through stages of grief, but I think that’s all total bullshit. I never felt angry and I never felt the need to forgive her death. I feel absolutely nothing. Not that I didn’t love her. I loved […]