Too soon can your emotions fly,
If you try to reach them, they will bite,
Pushed with a force unknown to you,
Followed by a triumphant breeze of extra salt from your eyes,
Hanging on in there somewhere is a secret you are always looking for,
Will you find it abandoned,
Most of the time, so,
Just let it shrivel up and perish,
Thinking of how you can save it,
It will go faster in the morning.
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts7 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
This poem's got some interesting imagery. It makes me think about times when I've chased after something that felt out of reach, only to have it slip away. It's relatable.