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Numb

The truth is I’m envious
of your pain.
Numbness is not better.
I have become numb,
and here I am now
trying desperately to ache.
There is so much poetry out there,
and I sit here, saddled
with an unshaken heart,
knowing it’s here,
but nothing to point it at.

I’ve been forgetting how
to care about things.
I’ve been surrounding myself
with piles of the things
that I remember, things
that I was built from
when I was bursting
with sadness and love.
I’m going to have to start
falling in love with strangers
for the traits that I assign to them.
I’m going to have to break
my own heart.

But I’m sorry you hurt.
You’ll go through it, and then
you’ll go a little numb.
That’s what we really do.
Coming out on the other side
takes longer than we
want to believe at our age.
But you’re a poet, and you’ll turn
your heartbreak into beauty.
Your heart will break open
and grow flowers.

Comments

So much subtle heartbreak, intermingled with potent outbursts of emotion...

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