Waiting on tomorrow

When you ache and itch.

When the throb becomes pain.

Twisting and turning.

Trying to find the spot where it doesn’t hurt.

Holding your breath. Pressing the desperate places.

Remembering the moments when you didn’t drip with angry need.

Going backwards isn’t an option.

Going forward with the ache deep in your soul.

Wondering if you could dig a knife in far enough to carve out the dark spots.

Waiting.

Zipping up your jeans two sizes too small. Pulling on your shoes.

The front door shuts behind you. You can’t feel your feet and the knife sits in your brain, twirling.

Maybe tomorrow.

Advertisements

One thought on “Waiting on tomorrow

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s