roses

Lingering chills Craving a touch that cannot be met To be held by you, seen by you. Loved by you Gone like the days of rose colored glasses I sit alone breathing away the despair Breathe 1...2...3...4.... Breathe 1....2....3....4.... Counting up and down again and again Release, to just be released No longer fixing, repairing, saving I wipe the tears and try to stand Shivering weakness consumes me to the core Collapse, will I ever make it Self doubt, triumphant Planted firmly I wiggle my toes in the dirt This time, this time, this time I will stand freely Anticipation, procrastination, frustration Slowly my heal rises and falls Paced, steady, eyes glaring into the dark uncertain of this path A crow calling in the distance as if a becon into this...... What is this. A new path, a dream, the flase reality created by the foundation of trauma, self harm and abuse It's calm in the distance So alarmingly still, no room for chaos to fill every corner of space Breathe 1.....2.....3......4..... Breathe 1.....2.....3......4..... Turn running back to what I know, allowing myself to ve fully consumed, deteriorating slowly into ash Stride forward into what feels like the darkest of caves, decomposing with ground underne