“Passenger Window”

From here I stare off into the speeding tree lines. The miles pass by and my mind is stuck on a loop of things that’ll never ever happen. Happy possibilities that aren’t in the cards.

How I could I have honestly thought that whole thing was true? I understand now that it wasn’t, which is why what’s true is as painful as it gets. Truth & loss are both nagging aches behind the eyes and in the head of the anxious, over thinker.

Leaves of fire and grass of emerald.

Bloodshot eyes like garnet marble.

The name I dare not speak out of turn.

A larynx devoid of frequency.

I pretend it’s not my reality anymore. I know that isn’t the absolute truth so as much as I say the words to myself, I balance it by silently remembering and keeping it under my skin.

That’s where it belongs.

Hidden. Shushed. Kept.

I cannibalize myself in the hope that I feel less empty and exist less prominently. That’s my signature now.

Burden no one. Write it out. Don’t reread it.