nails picked raw and bloody
i pick up my bottle of medication
and i remember the doctor said
“she damaged her cerebral nerves.
those dreams are because she
has some trauma.”
perhaps a little laughable because i thought
i have quite a few, wanna pick one?
was it the depression?
or was it the heartbreak?
or was it just
my weakness?


sometimes i’m not as lucid as
i’d like to be
and i stare, and i think of too many things
and i wonder
is this all i’ve got in me?
the ability to endure pain and
nothing more?
and i remember the pressure on my chest
i remember the numbness in my limbs
i remember the hot, jagged shards
of my heart
trying to break free from my body
i remember pressing down on my mouth so i don’t scream out loud
i remember trying so hard not to fall, or to cry
the urgent need to breathe
the shaking, the pain, the pain, the pain-
but in the end these are all just
memories.
nothing more than memories.
letting go is
easier said than done
much, much easier said than done.


i want a happy ending too
i think
i deserve that much
after all i’ve done to seek peace
to seek balance
why does it still seem so far away?


and this hollowness is new
breaking is a familiar devil but
hollowness is new
when i try to write the words
my teeth strangle the sound
and the ink stains only my fingertips
there is nothing to bottle up
there is nothing in this barren land
of the afterwards of a wildfire
that razed the ground.


i’ve been staring at the cracks on my soul
on my body and i’ve been asking
when will you heal?
and if you will not heal then
must i adorn you with flowers
to avoid scaring the passersby?


i broke my own heart and blamed it
on someone else.
liar.
more flowers. more lies.