Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I used to build words
like a carpenter—
lines hammered out
plank by plank
word for word,
like bridges
spanning waters
for anyone
eager to cross.

And now
I write to meet the page
like aching skin,
like quiet water
hesitant to ripple—
careful to bear a mark.

All the words
I’ve sent off—
paper boats,
adrift.

I let them all go,
travelers,
and bridges alike,
let them sink or rise—
and let the tide
bring the words
home.
trying to get a little dopamine—
In somebody’s lap.

Flashbacks.
Shivering.

Hands,
        hands,
              hands.
Naked burned in my memory
I draw your beauty perfectly.
You ask if I would stay Sunday
Times crossword we will play.
Wake Monday sleet grey day.
Cash only when I leave to pay.
as the sun is to the moon
so I am to you
though oceans divide us
dawn will come soon
Now at the end of all things
As we're breathing sulfur and
Lead's pouring over our heads
I'm glad you're the one I'm
Sharing the trenches with
This is the first thing I'm able to write in almost a month. A little piece about my mental health struggles and how grateful I am to the ones that have my back right now.
Next page