There was a poem I wrote before this one
I wrote it somewhere between midnight and morning,
you know, the place where the tides are too heavy
they're cement,
too blue
they're black,
too sharp
they're knives
and you can't help
but drown.
The place where I sank into a well of words and emerged
as black as every single one of my demons.
You know, the place where the feelings come out
and where there is no delete button,
no escape plan,
no Plan A to begin with and no Plan B to end it.
I poured everything onto that poem,
every **** feeling
and every horrible thought that had the audacity to come true.
And when I realized what I had done,
I took that poem
and I burned it—
every drip of ink
and every drop of emotion.
and made this one out of its ashes