Most nights we are alone, Trying to form a shape, Wrecking with the pain of a bleeding heart, In desperation to flatten the lump formed in the throat, Trying to keep it as calm as possible Not to wake our partners beside us. Most nights we are alone, Clenching onto pillows, Playing loud music, Pretending sleep, While we writhe in pain. Most nights we are alone, Thinking of faces that promised company, Faces of people we assumed would hug us, Hands that we thought would caress us, And talks that we registered would soothe us. Most nights we are alone, Peeling off our gender, Searching for an identity, Making sense of our essence, Organizing our anger, Revolting against the structure, Living past the breaking point, Storming a mysterious body. Most nights we are alone, Cursing the dreams we believed, Blaming the instincts that spurred...
Comments
Post a Comment