Please take a few moments and read this gem from Carly-Jay. She is, without a doubt, the most amazing woman I know.
Originally posted on bruises you can touch:
I’ve grown weary of shaking the hands of strangers and father time
not knowing what catacomb I’ll tumble into.
Dropping like an inelegant bomb into a pit
of frayed men where optimism is a step into fear.
I can’t trust the creases in your eyelids
when you think you’re boxing clever.
I cannot walk into that thin stretch of air, at times thick with pain;
its density like walking through sodden curtains of grief.
Just another plaint of the wounded,
being sent off to sea in a sinking ship;
baggage lost, with no warm bodies to ferry to my skin.
Lifted up onto pockets of non-feeling,
you are the chorus, cauterised, bleached;
I am the verse – stitch, bleed, repeat.