Some days, all it takes is a whisper
A stray thought. A smokelike wisp
I want to drown in the silence of my life
Gentle like this snowfall
I count the threads of my grief quietly
Writing in tandem with this sorrow that roots itself in the pit of my stomach
I promise I am not all of this; or rather, this is not all of me.
I am flesh and bone and laughter and full.
But there are days when the static claims the nerves under my skin and the ache throbs in my soul.
Those days, these days, I come to you
Jul 8, 2024
Jul 8, 2024 at 11:04 PM UTC
Some days, all it takes is a whisper
A stray thought. A smokelike wisp
I want to drown in the silence of my life
Gentle like this snowfall
I count the threads of my grief quietly
Writing in tandem with this sorrow that roots itself in the pit of my stomach
I promise I am not all of this; or rather, this is not all of me.
I am flesh and bone and laughter and full.
But there are days when the static claims the nerves under my skin and the ache throbs in my soul.
Those days, these days, I come to you
Well it's been some time, hasn't it?
Wrote this some time back. Not really snowing in July, after all.
Hope you're well.
