My mind doesn’t think of what’s wrong,

but the pit in my stomach does.

It aches and churns as I lay in bed that night

rolled over onto my stomach

with all hope to try and suppress the growing ache in my chest.


that’s a funny word, isn't it?

So much meaning behind four little letters.

Does the subject of that ache hurt

with the words you spewed from your lips in hopes of slashing their chest open?

Or, does that four letter word send butterflies into the depth of their stomach

longing for another person perhaps.

I have felt that ache before,

both of them actually.

The first ache I spoke about more prevalent than its latter,

that ache forms in my stomach first,

but then claws its way upwards into my chest, 

a concave of a hole dug out by those talons at the end of Ache’s hand.

Ache proceeds to creep its way further up,

and now into my throat, 

threatening me with a piercing scream at the tip of my tongue,

a fireball of evil words in that same place,

and all would come out as a hurricane if I were to just open my mouth.

This excruciating ache can stem from a multitude of things,

did your boyfriend suddenly shatter your heart into perceivably unmendable pieces?

Did you lose a close friend to a stab and twist of a knife in your back?

A divorce of two seemingly in love parents?

Abandonment from one of them?

Whatever it may be,

this ache will be one of the hardest things you deal with in your mortal life.

The second ache, 

the one experienced by means of love,


A deep rooted sentiment from one subject to another.

This ache is lovely. 

It spirals around your stomach

in a pleasant blur. 

This ache spreads like warm honey

Through your bones,

your veins,

your limbs,

heating every part of your body

and mind.

This ache fills your mind

with thoughts and images and memories

of the thing that you ache for. 

The reason I say “you” and “your” 

while speaking of this second ache

is because I seldom experience this ache .

I have become a close acquaintance,

or rather a good friend,

with the toxic frenemy that is this first ache.

The reason I say “frienemy” 

is because heaving this ache is not always bad, 

this ache helps me know 

I can still feel things, 

no matter how bad those feelings may seem. 

With this frienemy I have the not-so-bad reminder that I am not 


Numb because I lose feeling of all aches,

Numb because I choose to ignore them. 

However, when the first ache consumes me I am forced to recognize it.

It is during times like this that,


I am grateful for that first ache.

This poem is about: 


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