hollow

//

hollowed out.

like walking around missing the middle of myself.

air charged with an energy at times that buzzes loudly around me, yet there is no sound or movement.

the random normal spaces you are missing in.

the way your name gets stuck in my throat and on my tongue, like a tongue twister- when really it is me stopping myself from it spilling out in place of another’s name, over and over again.

the tears that come in unexpected moments are becoming familiar, running tracks somehow through the hollowed middle of me.

your hands might hit air if you tried to wrap me in your arms.

there are days i’m barely here and the hollowness begins to creep up and down and eat me alive.

it is such a strange thing to know your existence in such a land as this, in such a stranger’s body as this, a stranger’s mind.

where did i go?
where did you go?

vacillation between numbness and stopping your breath pain, like i’m going in and out of grief as one goes in and out of consciousness.

will i wake up one day to my life? to myself?

trying to keep the tsunami at bay, there isn’t much left for it to take over.

like a lightbulb about to burn out, flickering on and off, how long will it hold out?

how long will i?

i think i’m running out of tears and I don’t want a refill.

i may even have run out of love, ask the hollowed woman, if you can find her heart.

i can’t.

{zt}

river

//

joni mitchell’s song “river” keeps playing in my head, “oh i wish i had a river i could skate away on”. but there is no skating away, no really getting away from this complicated and piercing life i live day in and day out. it is full of caves and underground tunnels of sadness that have no accurate name or description, of despair and loss that can only wander around in endless circles, never finding a way out, because the ugly truth is there’s not one.

this latest version of life that was written for me must be lived here in this unfamiliar and scary place. i often pretend all is mostly well even though i’m stumbling and struggling to catch my breath. i somehow put on a good face that projects a strength that really isn’t a strength, it’s a mask. can you see past it?

the dark is so dark, and those moments when i let some truth slip out i hate the grimaces that so often show up, or the sighs and uncomfortable shifts of eyes, or the clasping of hands and looking away, because the truth seems to hurt anyone it spills out onto. people say they want to know but then when the words fall out along with the tears they seem to often wish they hadn’t asked, because now their faces appear to say they really aren’t sure they want to know after all.

so i hide the grief most of the time, in order to somehow survive.

how does one come to accept this new existence devoid of a person who felt as half their soul? accept the mystery? the lack of answers? the absence of someone so needed there is no defining that depth of need accurately, it stretches beyond the bounds of language, just as the experienced grief does. beyond telling in all its fullness. i wish i had that river to skate away on…

{zt}

(pic credit: pixababy)