The Feeling

a brain that needs to be scrubbed
clean. burdens- they stand, idly,
on my shoulders. now we’re all
waiting for relief. an ache,
3mm above my heart but
nowhere close enough to even matter.
something hangs on the tongue. the
taste of rust spreads throughout
and the air: it is heavy. silence
raps my eardrums with its knuckles.
a breath, gasping. yet, still, none
of these could ever match what
was, perhaps, the most excruciating:
the pain of patiently waiting.

Leave some comments

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s