When I say it out loud, it’s so small—
like a puddle
or a glass of water.
I could drink it,
and it would go away.
When I cry it, it’s even smaller—
like a shot glass,
or a few drops of rain.
But in my mind,
it’s an ocean.
A pool I can’t climb out of.
I can’t hide from it there.
It’s a storm so loud
I try to plug my ears—
but it won’t go away.
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 2:06 PM UTC
When I say it out loud, it’s so small—
like a puddle
or a glass of water.
I could drink it,
and it would go away.
When I cry it, it’s even smaller—
like a shot glass,
or a few drops of rain.
But in my mind,
it’s an ocean.
A pool I can’t climb out of.
I can’t hide from it there.
It’s a storm so loud
I try to plug my ears—
but it won’t go away.
It’s about him
