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Struck (a poem about my ex)
🕑 Added 2019-11-16 21:13:54 +0000 UTCIt’s been a week of too many feelings. Here I’ve been thinking I’m healing, and then one phone call from him ties me in knots.
It’s muscle memory, opening myself to him, wanting to be a warm place for him to land. I want to believe in the impossible, I want to see miracles with my own two eyes. So I answer when he calls.
In minutes I’m kneeling on the hallway floor and my hands are shaking. How can he bring me back here so quickly? This sour pit in my stomach, this bitter simmering rage, it feels like home in some ways, but I have not missed it.
These wounds rip open so easily. I feel like a fucking fool bleeding for him. But I do.
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Daniel Drew
Hugs.
