how much it hurts
to stay.
i am not fire,
or a myth —
just bones,
flesh,
still red.
i crave the black,
the stillness
the cathedral i’ve built inside it,
the quiet keeps me a mute
still i’m in pursuit.
it’s easier
to write being
than be.
i keep a knife
by my side,
in case
i blink.
no apologies.
all i’ve ever wanted
was to be seen —
it feels like
a car collision
in my chest,
every day.
my body aches,
but not from pain.
joy swallows me
though i’m not whole;
if i went tonight,
i’d die happy
alright.
isn’t that just
what the living ache for?
-
Author:
Yael Olalde-Garcia (
Offline) - Published: July 25th, 2025 00:24
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
Nicely expressed and written write
So powerful and identifiable it touches something deep inside and talks like an old friend. Your wording is well chosen and the short lines give pause to each thought. A lovely write and a fave
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