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Apr 2018
i am broken and i want to be whole
death is stained on my fingertips
he loves the taste of my tears
so i wash my face too often

why am i so broken
there is no meaning in the cracks of my soul
i fill my life with comfort and
still death is always behind me

my throat is so swollen
from pollen and panic attacks
that ravage my body and
rip out the seams in my story

i've lost myself and
though i spent months seeking myself
all i see in the mirror is unspent
potential for depression to run me aground again

there is no wayfinder in my heart
like yours, with your goals
as a GPS and your achievements
like landmarks in your mother's hallway

i write beginnings
of sentences that now are
litter on the floor of my mind
because no words encompass my fear

and now endings are all i can think of
but i don't want to be another
face on the obituary, lost
amid painful goodbye's and small typeface
disjointed thoughts, as always. i'm getting worse and worse as a writer as my apathy continues to grow. i just want a steaming bowl of pasta puttanesca and a couple seasons of pokemon to distract me from anxiety + this ******* cloud over my head.
mariamme
Written by
mariamme  19/hsv, al
(19/hsv, al)   
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