I am the kind of tired sleep cannot fix.
Not exhaustion.
Erosion.
The kind that happens slowly,
then all at once.
A knot pulled so tight,
it forgets the shape of release.
It lives in my bones,
This everlasting deep soreness.
My marrow is bruised,
like every joint is gripping something it was never meant to carry.
My body feels tender.
Raw..
My shoulders stay hunched.
My jaw stays clenched.
My chest stays tight,
like breathing is another task.
Another chore.
My brain is glass that’s been dropped.
Not a dramatic shatter..
just fractures everywhere.
A thousand sharp edges catching on each other
every time I try to think in a straight line.
I’m not sad in a way that cries.
I’m sore.
I’m numb.
I’m overstimulated and empty.
I’m tired in places sleep doesn’t reach.
As if I’m standing in the ocean
long after I forgot how to swim,
not drowning,
just staying still.
Letting the water decide how much of me it wants to keep.