Every time I think I’m healing
I cry again
And I try to decipher what’s wrong
And all the hurt just keeps pouring out
Maybe these headaches I get
Maybe the vice around my temples
Is holding me together,
Keeping me from shattering
Ugh that’s so cliché
“Shattering”
“Breaking”
“Oh I’m so broken”.
How about splintered?
I’m splintered. Bits of me are falling off
Hurting others as they go
Burying deep into flesh like tiny knives
Leaving me … Unfinished
In need of a good sanding
A good scrubbing
I keep looking for a baptism
But what is being reborn an atheist?
I can keep looking and looking
But there’s nothing more out there.
Back to the point
The point of the splinters
The point of my poem
I need to un-wedge this cork
Bottle between my knees,
Fingers wrapped around the neck
Thumbs pushing with all their might
So much strength in me
And that’s all I can use.
Listening to the same songs over and over
I’m stuck like a dried out cork
Someone stored me wrong
Upside down
And now, a perfectly good bottle of wine, ruined.
Uncork me.