i’m not sure what’s worse
to push it away
or beg it to stay
either way,
i’ll sit on my staircase each day
stuck between the street and apartment 3A
twirling my hair as frantic as my thoughts
figuring how to tear the string that connects my head and heart
befriending silence can suffocate and sink
til she finds the pit in my stomach and i’m too full to think
it’s taken twenty years or so
but i’ve come to understand
that feelings don’t accept ‘no’
reminded of when my mom would tell me to use my words
maybe this could be a good start.
