Waking up ten minutes after falling asleep,
Rolling out of bed and staring out of your window,
Fully knowing that the glass beneath your fingers is breakable too.
A disease that cracks across your skin,
Forming ravines that are impossible to cross;
Further ravishing the warmth left inside of you.
The numbness that crawls within your body,
Like the washing away of your final words;
The silence you are left standing in as the waves begin to tumble.
The craziness that masks a parallel world;
Like the feathers brushed against one’s face
During a night of wild and murderous congestion.
The completed creation of a recipe
In which you never intended to produce;
But there it sits, your name written all over it,
Sure to the world that you do not miss its existence.
The biting of a tongue, the clenching of a muscle one cannot replace,
Hoping that its almost involuntary movements will subside;
It is the strength within one's inner depths of which you thought you lacked
That throws the memory to the side, locking away the conscience of the past.
Kylie Blaire Waid