It's an interesting struggle,
Bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders
When you brought it on yourself.
It's even more interesting when you have no support.
When your shoulders sink and your feet drag and your heart does both
Sitting in the corner, with your knees tucked up under your chin
Your head resting gently on your legs, Your arms wrapped around your ankles
Fingers interlaced.
The last thread
Holding together a mess of pieces
A last shred of hope.
Waiting for some small morsel of comfort
Waiting for some measure of assurance
But truly what remains is hopelessness.
The only assurance is that you will grab the trashcan and
Systematically purge your stomach of its contents
Against your will
And then you will systematically brush your teeth
To systematically get rid of the taste and the burn.
You will sit down in the corner systematically and wait
Wait for the burp and the burn
Wait to grab the trashcan
Wait to hold your hair out of your face
Wait for the taste of bile
Wait for the heave
Wait for the air to rush back into your lungs
Wait for the taste of toothpaste
Wait for the paper towel against the chapped corners of your mouth
Wait to sit back down and
Wait for it to happen again.
And maybe
Maybe you will wait for some comfort
But the only comfort
Is the warmth of your favorite sweater
Well worn, and comfy
But a sweater only warms so much
When your heart and soul
Have frozen over
And anything meaningful
Remains in the closet,
A skeleton of judgement.
It's an interesting struggle.