darkness is sad.

it is painful.
this bed allows me to sink.
As the chill darkness stretches my skin,
I can feel the hands of the mattress wrap around my body.
I squeeze my pillow,
checking to see if I have any strength left.
I dig my nails into my cheeks.
And make fists and push into my cheek
Scrunching these feelings, crushing them and pushing them out of my pores and out of my eyes as salt water.
But it feels more like sand and it burns.
My toes are cold and lifeless and I fold them into eachother and hold...

my hair is the handle above the passenger seat
this is scary driving
these feelings.

I can't believe you are not messed up
(I am)
The things you've seen
The things you've heard
I'm surprised you're not constantly hurting, and that all of your memories aren't grey and sad and hurt and bring back feelings of hopelessness and make you cry like you did then. How are you not hurting?
(I am)
If I were you I'd be smashing my face in the pillow every night yelling, hoping and praying for amnesia or Alzheimer's wishing that these black and white films running in your mind were fiction and not biographys.
(I AM)

I am hurting
I'm crying
this hurts, these feelings ****
and they're strong and powerful and I push them down and I smile and laugh
and smile more and laugh more and I'm so blessed.
I KNOW I am,
I am so thankful for you.
I love you all so much.
But your pain fills my heart and I look in your eyes and remember what they look like filled with the sand that's in my eyes now and how it burns and you struggle with the pain so I take my first ******* and dig and dig and dig the sand from your eyelids and hold a napkin on your cheek to catch the grains that fall.
I am trying to help you clean up.

I take little bags and fill them with your sand and bring them home and I keep it from you.
I don't want your eyes to burn anymore.

I lie down and your sand and everyone else's falls out of my pillows and onto my bed and the grains itch my skin and stay in my hair.
I thought I could handle this but
I dig my nails into my cheeks.
And make fists and push into my cheek,
Your sand just sticks to mine and clogs my pores and nothing gets out anymore.
It sits inside, underneath my skin and sleeps and at night this sand rips out of my skin and reminds me,
what each grain means.
And who it came from and who's still hurting.

Darkness is scary.