Isn't it something?
To place the churn
In your gut
Onto light blue lines
And bathroom walls?
Isn't it something?
To flip that nervous
***** onto a canvas
For passerbys to notice?
Isn't it something?
The way heartbreak
Claws open your ribs
One by one as if
She were tasting each
Slowly letting you bleed
And how the world could see
But far less often understand?
Unless you put it on a paper
With a pen and with your hand
Isn't it something?
The way words can mend the sores
She left the day before,
Or make them seem urgent at least
So there is less of you for the world to feast
Upon the vulnerability that you have become,
But it is words you leave
Eyes that see
That do the caring
The world may sit and read
For it is human to be hungry