Listen to: "Rhythm & Blues" by Ayra Starr


Workday

Searching for heat, warmth in this place
so icy, so cold. My fingers frozen over.

Stuff my feelings into boxes so I can survive, so I can work
Overfilled boxes.
I'm running out of boxes.

With you, I can fall apart.
The safest spot in the entirety of my world, right on your chest, in your arms.
Right there is the only safe place to cry, to come apart in my grief and pain.

No one ever talks of the grief and the loss of becoming an adult
when you lose so many people either to time or to age.

But stuff it all into boxes, tape them over,
because tomorrow is another workday.
Emotions are only allowed to a certain amount.
Don't want to be unprofessional.

I need sleep more than I need to think or feel.
Box it up and send it away.

I bandage over my self-made holes.
Apply make-up over the darkened rings under my eyes.
Fluff up my hair, take many deep breaths,
make sure my pulse stays under a hundred.

Armour me up and send me on my way.
Because tomorrow is yet another Monday.





Poetry by SecretWords The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 99 times
Written on 2023-09-18 at 07:01

Tags Grief  Adulting 

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