The emptiness of ones heart can only be
Defined by that of the person.
No pain or extent of ones pain can
Be felt by another.
Every inch of it is different and
Shaped for everybody.
Each nerve senses it differently.
Thus, I cannot and I do not expect
You to feel my pain or to even be able
To understand it.
But I ask that you listen and trust when
I say that it’s too much.
So that I can breathe,
Take in oxygen like any other human.
It’s almost as if a peach seed
is growing in my heart
I’m not sure of.
Is it possible to know what
you are living for with such
gusto and all of a sudden, not be sure
of what you are doing anymore?
The way the sky looks down at me
seems so ordinary
and the way the wind collides with
my hair feels like a long lost dream.
Everything feels like a long lost dream.
The way my chest refuses to move
to the rhythm it has been taught.
The way my blood pumps to the
beat of resistance.
Everything is a long lost dream.
And now, it seems, I have to sleep, to retrieve them.