I feel it in my head,
As it bangs repeatedly,
Echoing the same message;
I’m hurt…I hurt.
I feel it in my eyes,
As I squeeze them tightly,
Willing the tears to come;
To speak of why they burn me in hiding.
I feel it in my nose,
As I try to empty the congested space,
Reminding it to take in life.
I feel it on my lips,
As they quiver and tremble,
Speaking words that are not heard.
I feel it in my chest,
As I try to move the weight that wouldn’t budge.
I heave and sigh time and again,
But it remains still.
I feel it in my belly,
Knots that loosen and retie themselves,
Dumping anxiety, worry, fear, with each attempt.
It’s like butterflies,
Except it’s not.
I feel it in my thighs,
As I squat and stand, and stand and squat,
Trying to shut my loud mind up.
I sweat and burn, and burn and sweat,
but the voices never stop chanting;
“You were not enough”.
I feel it in my legs,
As they attempt to take me back,
Before they find they are rooted to the ground.
They thrash and flail,
Until they are weak and collapse.
I feel it on my skin,
As it tells tales of how it tingled from your touch;
Your deep caresses, it forgets not.
It wants and longs,
For a hand that will not again come.
I feel it every where, every time, every way;
That feeling that overwhelms and weakens and drains;
The feeling of loss,
Loss of a loved one that did not die.
