un(broken)titled

here you are.

sitting on the cold sand

the smell

reminding you of 

the solid aster

your father brought your mother.

 

you didn't know you'd make it

down this winding road 

of pain and lonlliness

and yet 

here you are.

 

here you are

a new self.

a queer self.

a self that despite the tragidies of our times 

you made into the arms of a god

they said hated you.

 

so you stand 

arms out streched

feeling the tension of your muscles and you wonder

christ.

thrones were made to be overthrown.

life came down to the broken

and in brokenness came a sort of

pause.

and then, when your own breath surprises you

here you are.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741