You feel this heaviness in your chest,
Like wet cotton soaking with emotions
When it gets dark it swells and grows,
Finally freed of the scrutinising rays of sun
This cotton wet and soaked clouds your mind
The liquid dripping from the pores
Unable to hold it back as it slips through your grip
Running down your skin calmly
Not caring about the cold trace it leaves
It runs hot like blood but gentle like water,
As the aching grows stronger and the cotton turns to steel
But not cold, calm and smooth steel
No, the kind that burns and melts inside of you, branding a hole through your core
Your body throbs, the liquid rushing while you gasp for air
Until your cotton is no longer soaking wet, no single drop
Yet it fills you out, still robbing breaths,
You can’t get rid of it
And acceptance follows exhaustion in the darkness that feels empty after the storm