Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2017
I can feel you my sadness;

In the crevices of this spine;

In the clench of this body;

The continual stinging of my eyes.

I can feel you my sadness;

A back, bent forward;

Reluctant to life;

You weep of old memories;

Etched privately in recoil.

I can hear you now my child;

Every tear, every gesture,

Every whisper;

Every silence accumulated in stone.

My enclosed heart —

Know, you remain as memory;

A shadow overlapping each day and night.
It is liberating to realise that I do not need to be happy 100% all of the time, in order to appear well-adjusted, “mature”, or balanced to others. Ironically the very effort to be happy, makes me unhappy. I feel a greater sense of peace in allowing my sadness. Sadness that was once heaviness, dissipates into a lack of tension wherein I can feel deeper aspects of myself.
vea vents
Written by
vea vents  Sydney, Australia
(Sydney, Australia)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems