When you think you’ve found a home,
when you finally feel whole,
when you believe you’re free from the anxiety,
precisely in that moment,
you go from ten to zero,
just write it down on a paper.
A little warmth,then lukewarm,
then completely cold.
Oh, that coldness,
colder than the snow,
no, colder than ice,
or is it colder than their souls?
The cold is the worst.
When it embraces,
shaking the body,
It holds the chest in its hand,
presses, squeezes, compresses.
For so long.
So long that you forget how to breathe.
It’s you, you should put it on paper.
When you stare,
not knowing what happened.
Questioning.
Wondering.
Searching for an answer.
When you’re melting away, but giving them a smile,
try to put it on paper.
You’re not bleeding.
You’re not falling apart either.
You’re just dizzy because you’re holding your breath.
You refuse to breathe.
Please.Write it down on paper.
But what do I do with the paper then? – So I asked.
Burn it.
Or tear it apart.
Throw it to the wind.
Step on it, scream at it, give it the finger.
Just get it down on paper.
Photo: unsplash.com
