Ticking off the silent days
purgatory grows familiar;
I gain more tolerance for the hole
in my head.
Numbness creeps in like a cat
mistreated once too often,
wary of kindness, assuming every
meal its last.
Once it takes up residence,
things will never be the same.
The hole will become
wholly unremarkable.
One day you will remember to call,
and although I’ll answer
the black hole will swallow
your voice.
Hello,
The second verse ‘caught’ me upon first reading; that wrench of the heart feeling.
There were times when I’ve allowed myself to be scared-cat skittish, as if expecting violence. There never has been that, really. I suppose a case of being overly dramatic, stemming from a lack of confidence.
Someone throw me a ‘backbone’.
Thank you, again, RGirl, for words that provoke and provide an emotional reaction.
Beautiful poetry.
Sadly sometimes the “whollyness” of a soul cannot live up to the standard…that is placed upon it’s ever brokenness.