Words like quiet whispers leave you longing
words like a gentle touch upon the skin.
Sounds that fill a space that’s simply empty
sounds that try in vain to comfort you.
Touch if it was there would it change anything
touch or would it never be enough?
Reach for something, anything, with open arms
reach until you feel it in your grasp.
Hunger with an ache that can’t be satiated
hunger with a longing to be filled.
Want and just be glad, I guess, for feeling
want is better than wanting nothing at all.
Ache it seems to never go away
ache in a way that seems it will never heal.
Stretch when your limits are being challenged
stretch against what you thought you could take.
Break when you feel that you can no longer bend
break when brittle is all that you can feel.
Burst when the pressure just becomes too much
burst when there is nowhere else for it to go.
Scratch at things just below the surface
scratch until you slowly break the skin.
Bleed because there is nothing left that you can do
bleed for the evidence that all of this is real.
Scar yourself with lines upon the skin
scar yourself with the words that tell this tale.