my days are a calendar of pain
my nights are like a thousand pins embedding
themselves into the succulent graves on my tongue

where did life go when I wanted to live,
where was living when I yearned & needed
to feel alive

every day on my calendar of pain has
a bad habit of nestling inside me without
permission and nights are a kissing shadow

of tribulations and mourning the loss of yet
another life that continues without existence

shrouded in blankets of solitude or sinking
into something empty
I still want to live,
to move forward, time for me is still

standing at a standstill waiting
waiting for me to catching up

I am re-birthing myself and writing all
all of these poems &
breathing them life & making them fly
maybe everything will make sense

& break free from the museless and emptiness
of days and nights words can’t birth

I am un-knotting myself and drawing each
maybe everything will bring me back
to life

or maybe this end is just the beginning
of another end and when the time comes
I will live again



Photo by Fantastic B on Unsplash