i miss it…

I miss it,
The way my thoughts spilled so openly,
Proud and shy, they resonated with those of like minds
And brought friends and strangers alike together,
Under the thought of knowing my wayward thinking,
But what they don’t know,
Was that I broke myself in half to find the words,
Cut into my heart, raw and bloody,
To grasp the meaning of the feelings I could never name aloud,
And it left me with scars I could never proudly bear the way I would if they had been molded into words,

I miss it,
The digging up of my own graves,
Of the feelings I thought I buried long ago,
No cobwebs found on the tombstone,
And the dirt around was fresh as a daisy,
A taken care of past that wasn’t meant to bleed into my life,
Because I swore I was over it,
But it seemed it was the only thing my pen remembered how to write,
Piece after piece, until the ink stained my pages,
Each line eerily similar to the others,
Anything but confronting the monsters lurking in my shadow,
Because those wounds never closed properly,
And I can still be caught licking the blood off my scars,
The same ones I wished never left their mark.

And here I am,
Writing about my past, and how it affects my present,
And no doubt will bleed into my future,
I wish I could say I missed it,
(But I know I’m lying when I say it isn’t far from my reach, the ink still eager to stain my fingers and pages)
And it still breaks my heart to reach that deeply into the mended heart,
Tapped and stitched together with twine,
But I use it because it breaks so easily when I need to rip the wound open again,
To capture the feeling that is raw and real and felt by so many like me
Carried by their scars, those self inflicted and given by those we thought would never hurt us,
So eager to have our stories heard anywhere but the pages of our skin…

4 thoughts on “i miss it…

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