Where does it hurt?

*trigger warning: depression*

It’s a walking numbness, a dull pain
that sometimes presents itself in waves.
It slowly builds, and one day, every few weeks it explodes.
I can’t bring myself out of bed.
The rolling tears subside for a moment only to build again and again.
The world outside, and the family inside, doesn’t exist, only what’s happening right here.
Only this pillow, only this blanket, only the thoughts of love so far away, always out of reach.

‘You should call someone, snap out of it.’

But you don’t.

They say to dig deep to find the root of the pain.
Where does it hurt?
When did it start?
Is it constant?
Does it hurt when you hold your body in such position?
Does it hurt when you turn your insides out?
Do you cover your pain with a smile and ‘I’m fine’?
Does it ceaselessly carry a weight under your eyelids?
Does it pull on you with every chance, every second of the day?
Does it numb you from climbing out of bed?
Do you answer ‘yes’ to every survey question regarding depression?
If ‘yes’, please proceed to your nearest healthcare provider immediately.

Isn’t it all just a sham, a system to pop more pills, to pour money into pharmaceutical companies
to keep you addicted to a drug that causes side effects, and more pills to alleviate such effects?
All the more pain to bear,
more hurting to just barely keep you together.

So I resist, and insist ‘I’m fine’.
It’s only a bad day, it will pass.
Until the next set of waves crash.

Hold On [with audio]

*spoken word*

somewhere deep in the night
we share our sweetest desires
you and i 
holding each other tight

miles and miles far away
confusing night into day
ripping off each other’s clothes
how we long to be so close

yet this is us for now
we’ve got to make it through somehow
for one day soon you’ll see
you’ll be holding me

you and i holding on
lost in another time
we’ll make it through another night
just sit back, enjoy the ride

this is us right now
we’ve got to make it through somehow
one day soon you’ll see
you’ll be holding me

and when that day comes
you’ll walk up to greet me
nothing else will be seen or heard
only our kisses will do the talking

so we’ve got to hold on
because one day, 
one day soon you’ll see
it’s you with me

the process of becoming

peel back the layers when
you shared the process to the end result,
you let me in and i mistook the meaning
of a subtle sign that you let me in to a sacred space,
seeing what makes you tick.

a subtle hand holding
but my dizzy head was lost in lust.
what else could i trust, but we became
kindred spirits longing, connecting, becoming.

walk me back through your streets, your hidden alleyways.
i’ll hold my assumptions, my jealousies, my interpretations of your fantasies.

i want to become what we were becoming.

nous avons tout le temps [with audio]

*spoken word recording*

The summer’s ritual of an evening rain gushing down upon my large umbrella and quick steps taken to dodge the flooding puddles in the streets remind me to avoid large disasters, the ones awaiting my arrival. I pull close the umbrella, brush the few drops from my face, take a deep sigh and pull open the door to a coffee shop where we’ve arranged to meet. You stand to greet me. My nerves are shot and I can’t for the life of me know where we begin. I squeeze out a nervous smile. We’ve already reconnected for the past year but this, this is a first time I get to see you again and I’m uneasy. Do we start from step one, see where this goes? Do we immediately pull into the throws of a lover’s embrace? So many questions racing for an answer. I want to turn off the questions in my mind and sit here and stare at you for a while. Order us a coffee & tea, and tell me something, anything to believe. Teach me a few phrases I have yet to learn. Do all the things we have left to do. We have the time. We have all the time. We have all the time for us.

the lull of the storm [with audio]

*spoken word recording*

the pitter-patter of droplets upon my windowpane
tap relentlessly
blowing left & right
remind me of the storm we once created
now settled deep into my mind

oh, to get swept up in your storm
the intensity of your words
the passion brewing & spilling over
the constant wind whipping & striking
before the longest lull

most nights i now sit and wait
for your storm
to consume me,
to save me
from this lull

your hands, your kiss

your hands, your kiss
I have been held and kissed before
but nothing like this

what is it about your hands, your kiss
that makes me believe
that nothing compares to this

I could see into others’ eyes
I could hold someone else’s hands
but I don’t feel their soul like you feel mine

to belong here

irritating tears-
     a hardening
before a sense of
     belonging

breaking down waves of
     rebellion

a window
to the heart & soul of:

trying, sorting,
feeling, fighting,
     howling
unchartered spaces

bound by the same thread

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

Pick up a needle,
a red piece of thread,
eye the eye of the needle
slowly push it through

Tie a knot at one end
to make sure it knows where to stop
push the needle through the fabric
pull and tug at its end

In & out, and around again
stitch after stitch
just enough to tie the fabric together
just enough so nothing else gets through

Our fabric
threaded together,
two pieces of misshapen chaos,
meet at the seams

Perfectly aligned,
complementary,
forever bound
by a red piece of thread