Jul 2017
I can’t explain, my dear,
Why some days I feel like an albatross with wingspan wider than the Pacific ocean.
Feathers reflecting the hues of forget-me-not blues and tiger lily oranges as the breeze carries me through the ever hypnotizing sunset.
And yet,
Some days I am but a turtle facing skyward. An anxious bundle of awkward kicks and pathetic wobbles as my feet try to ground themselves once more. The very shell protecting me from danger having betrayed me as it holds safety in front of me on a fishing rod, like a carrot tempting a mule.
I can’t explain, my love,
Why every evening I pump myself with capsules of chemicals to dissolve into my bloodstream like sugar into iced tea: It’s sole purpose to sweeten my taste and leave everyone begging for more of the refreshing treasure that is my happiness. Knowing very well that without my sugar, I would be nothing other than a glass of bitter herbs in tainted water. My ice cubes melting as I sit in the sun, unwanted.
I can’t explain, my darling,
How your eyes are flames that pull me out of every darkness except that that leaves me rocking under the dining room table. Not because they don’t have the power to, but because I have grown too tired to let them. Too tired of the pity you hide so well in the colour of your irises. Too tired to let you bring the laughter you once found in me back to the surface. It has been drowned one too many times.
I can’t explain, my treasure,
Why, after years of fighting, I have yet to win this battle against myself. This war, within these bone walls, that I have slowly been losing… praying for the relief of a white flag… no longer caring which side wins.
Why my blood stained thoughts — cognitive gun shots — dye my snow-white mind a furious shade of scarlet; poppies on a cross grave.
I can’t explain, my everything,
Why bridges start to look like trampolines
And razors feel like skipping stones.
Why God no longer sounds so mighty
And families make you feel even more alone.
I can’t explain why,
Some days I can soar
And some days I’m stuck on my shell.
But to love once again,
To see beauty in life,
For that
I am fighting like hell.
- p. winter
Why some days I feel like an albatross with wingspan wider than the Pacific ocean.
Feathers reflecting the hues of forget-me-not blues and tiger lily oranges as the breeze carries me through the ever hypnotizing sunset.
And yet,
Some days I am but a turtle facing skyward. An anxious bundle of awkward kicks and pathetic wobbles as my feet try to ground themselves once more. The very shell protecting me from danger having betrayed me as it holds safety in front of me on a fishing rod, like a carrot tempting a mule.
I can’t explain, my love,
Why every evening I pump myself with capsules of chemicals to dissolve into my bloodstream like sugar into iced tea: It’s sole purpose to sweeten my taste and leave everyone begging for more of the refreshing treasure that is my happiness. Knowing very well that without my sugar, I would be nothing other than a glass of bitter herbs in tainted water. My ice cubes melting as I sit in the sun, unwanted.
I can’t explain, my darling,
How your eyes are flames that pull me out of every darkness except that that leaves me rocking under the dining room table. Not because they don’t have the power to, but because I have grown too tired to let them. Too tired of the pity you hide so well in the colour of your irises. Too tired to let you bring the laughter you once found in me back to the surface. It has been drowned one too many times.
I can’t explain, my treasure,
Why, after years of fighting, I have yet to win this battle against myself. This war, within these bone walls, that I have slowly been losing… praying for the relief of a white flag… no longer caring which side wins.
Why my blood stained thoughts — cognitive gun shots — dye my snow-white mind a furious shade of scarlet; poppies on a cross grave.
I can’t explain, my everything,
Why bridges start to look like trampolines
And razors feel like skipping stones.
Why God no longer sounds so mighty
And families make you feel even more alone.
I can’t explain why,
Some days I can soar
And some days I’m stuck on my shell.
But to love once again,
To see beauty in life,
For that
I am fighting like hell.
- p. winter
