The way you speak to me
is a balm taken from the sea,
molded and refined
to heal my broken soul.
When the winds have left me broken,
you hum into my ears.
I follow your voice when I'm lost—
those times I cannot see,
when I’m surrounded by that thick fog
of knives and daggers.
When I'm crippled
with heartache
and feel
everything other than
nothing,
and then nothing at all.
In those times,
I follow the melody
you cast from your lips,
and I make it out alive.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 2:43 PM UTC
The way you speak to me
is a balm taken from the sea,
molded and refined
to heal my broken soul.
When the winds have left me broken,
you hum into my ears.
I follow your voice when I'm lost—
those times I cannot see,
when I’m surrounded by that thick fog
of knives and daggers.
When I'm crippled
with heartache
and feel
everything other than
nothing,
and then nothing at all.
In those times,
I follow the melody
you cast from your lips,
and I make it out alive.
Romance and mental illness
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