Bezoar (Thought-piece)

Simon,

A stone’s stuck in me.

It’s like ice. Starts as lump in your throat, seems like sadness, before it spreads. Nothing phases you. You shiver, but don’t really feel the cold, as your blood pools around your vitals. Calcifying into stone.

The hurt is gone, and you wish it would come back. Even the grey has fled, that lovely, middling, warmth. I’d die twice to be permanently content, easier to break limb and bone.

That’s the logic, though, isn’t it? The opposite of inspired. Eating, writing, sleeping…They take a break, until you feel enough to start crying, a quieter tone.

Those beautiful tears, I love them. They’ve kept me back from The Brink more than a reason, purpose, or you ever could. They’ve seen me for what I am, I guess you’ve always known. I’m sorry.

-Hads

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Related short story: https://bluebeard-art.com/cant-keep-goin-on/

Easy (<3 Poem)

Easy——->Click for formatted PDF version of Poem

These lighter poems, I write them to a specific person. I think that’s why they are so stripped down. They’re honest, embarrassingly so. I don’t think that’s the worst thing for poem to be. It isn’t deep, confusing, or all that thought provoking, but I mean it.

Unformatted version below.

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Easy

The pain that’s easiest to hide,
Numb,
The one hurt I couldn’t abide,
I find,
The times I want to die,
Are when I stop feeling alive.
But you threw the die,
Told me to try,
You didn’t laugh when I’d start to cry,
Or when I told you to help me fly,
Away from here.
That all I wanted was to be free,
And you were the key,
You were okay with letting me be,
Me.