Time to Wake

We all have a story deep inside our bellies,

churning and burning a light bright as starlight,

informing the cries of our dispassionate strife.

May it be written on your mauve skin or reflected deep within your irises.

Mine is all over the bathroom floor,

that night I tried and tried.

But could not hide my dark furrowed brows.

The night I was left alone to fend for myself.

Yes, my story is imprinted on my limbic lobe,

secretly nestled into the crevices of my tongue.

Reminding me of all the ways someone can so intensely lose themselves. Moist eyes,

and nothing to hold onto.

Full acceptance that all is fleeting.

That summer I felt so free but now I see it’s only because I didn’t mind the smell of mortality.

Which clung to my shadow day in and day out.

An unignorable desire to simply...

Never have I been so sure that I would be fine.

Yet everything was tumbling down and I didn’t even care to make a sound.

Yes, deep inside I had always envisioned this fiery demise to suffice.

Even in the times I had never been so alone.

I was alright.

Because I had no other choice but to fall, fall, fall.

To finally wake me,

shake me,

from that two-year deep rest.