Your absence is
A terrible kind of safety:
You left a world
That would have tried harder
To do the job itself.
Your armor now
Is wood and soil, but
Better than the fragile heart
And skin to bear the wounds.
The space where you were
Will never heal
But there is comfort
In the weight of knowing
Nothing can touch you now.
The relief feels
Like burning and betrayal
Like a mouthful of pills,
Like a phantom limb
Grateful for the severance.
About the Creator
Mina Carey
Self proclaimed weirdo, collector of hobbies, creator of worlds and hunter of mysteries. Let's find our new hyperfixation together.
https://sp0reprintspectrum.carrd.co/
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myselves
myselves We tried to drink ourselves clean, counted shots like rosary beads, the glass sweating. We tried to smoke ourselves sober , ash collecting like dried petals beneath forgotten flowers. We tried to peel back our masks, And found scabs like punctuation marks interrupting every sentence the body tries to finish. I told myself: stop. I told myself: just one more. All the voices sounded like me. Our hair became the string we followed, trying to escape our labyrinth mind. We pulled, and we unraveled, and escape remained unknown. Call us user, abuser, monster, maniac; names stack like chairs in an empty room. We sit in all of them. None can bear our weight. We tried to divide ourselves evenly one voice for rage, one voice for hunger, one voice that only knows how to stay. But the body refuses fractions. It gathers us back together until there is only one mouth left and it is screaming.
By Mina Carey5 days ago in Poets
There's A Hole in My Bucket
It’s a well-known fact that Liza Dufresne was always the brains in the family. She was the one who always came up with the brilliant schemes the Dufresne kids carried out when they were younger. Like when they tricked Mrs. Claybourn into paying for a trip to Disney World. Liza convinced her that their parents had been kidnapped and were being held for ransom for the total price of three tickets. In reality, they were away on a weekend getaway for their anniversary. When they returned, Liza told the Claybourns that they did not like to talk about the ordeal. Their parents never found out how they got the money. Mrs. Claybourn never found out that the Dufresne parents were never really in any danger.
By David E. Perry3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I don’t know how to explain it, but this feels like grief and relief fighting each other in the same breath. Did you write this from personal experience?