I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m angry. I’m beyond grievous.

My skin feels raw down to the bone.

It’s as if I’m bathing in a tub of torment. I’m washing with the ache of what I should have done, what I should have said.

It keeps filling the space enclosing my soul.

When I try to rinse off the sorrow, it feels like fragments of my missing future digging in.

My life will never be how I want it.

I feel like I’m laying on my back and all these realizations are suffocating me.

The tears are so frequent that they feel like razorblades rolling out of the corner of my eyes.

I’m fighting the urge to scream out in horror, in anxious pain.

I rock back and forth, trying to figure out these thoughts that are beating my brain.

How can they be true?

My belly is gorged with rage.

This…this…this has happened. This is happening right now.

These feelings don’t leave, they argue with each other.

Rational thoughts fly out the window when I wake from a dream of being with you.

Because I can’t be with you.

Because I can’t be with you.

 

 

 

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