Atlas

"You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders"
he said to me.

Her hot tears burn through my scapula.
My bones crack like twigs bent in half
not quite snapping,
in silent devastation,
crack,
crack.

I don't know how to exist
without
throwing myself into the fire.

There's a mountain on top of the mountain
like Hydra heads multiplying
the more I climb, the longer I have to go
the more I crack my bones, the stronger I grow.

A phone call,
sighs on the other side. Her voice breaking,
crack,
crack.

Bruises on my back
reminders of other people's grief
I carry as my own.
Crack,
crack.

I wear her eyes like my own
the cursed hands behind the glass,
I am her but she's not me.
I am the ghost that halves her pain.

"You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders"
he screamed at me.

And slammed the door behind him.

Crack,
crack.





Poetry by Eva
Read 62 times
Written on 2025-05-21 at 19:40

Tags Grief 

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Albert Vynckier The PoetBay support member heart!
don't weigh yourself more than the pain for each day that you can handle
if possible ...
and if you hate yourself too much, you'll be too much of yourself
2025-05-23