my heart is too big for my chest
scratching away until it bursts out
it crawls up my throat
and bleeds out my eyesbrash
loud
unashamed
hoping to find a home in someone else
couplet 58
it’s dark as shit feeling along the floor of her bedroom, like searching deep
in the room of a smell for the first sign of spring.
i. He tells me that sometimes it is easy to shake the bees nest laying
beneath your ribcage, he tells me that sometimes the only way to heal
is to get stung a few too many times and realize how good the sun feels
when you aren’t on your knees wondering why you did this to yourself again.
ii. I have watched daily as the flower blooms, becoming something
from nothing. And yet I have never watched it move from one to the next,
and I think to myself, growth is effort and growth is pain and growth
is all that we have when there’s nothing else left.
iii. Today, I am nervous. I am a bundle of anxiety ready to explode
like a volcano overdue for a catastrophe.
iv. And I think to myself, this is growth and this is okay
even when it feels like a shaken bees nest beneath my ribcage.
" I keep remembering — I keep remembering. My heart has no pity on me. "
"
I tried to hold it all in my hands
but too much is too much
and I could not stop it from
slipping through my fingers
and pooling out over the sides
and I watched myself lose it all
I watched myself
grow tired
and weary
and all I could do was crumble
and hope someone could come along and find those broken pieces
the too big to carry pieces
the sandpaper edges and fragile shards
And make sense of it all
to still see beauty and wholeness
And wish me back together again.
But who can carry it with me? Who can look at these hands and hold them steady?
