god, I am so sad, and it eats me.
there are bags beneath my eyes
large enough to hold all of my worldly possessions.
my skin stretches, tears at where my bones poke through.
I trace my throat with my fingertips
wondering where my voice went,
grip the roots of my hair like I’m trying to pull the words out of myself.
I search silently for a hand to hold
but my palms skitter over the ground, alone.
I always find myself too worried to ask for someone;
it’s difficult to speak when your face is raw from salty tears.
am I missing my chances?
is there a seam along my jaw? I cannot find one
where the mask feels it should be.
I cry until I am hollow,
or I don’t, and feel hollow anyway.
the sadness, it eats you.
