nails to the quick

it's picking nails until they're to the quick

overthinking
a violent ballet of hope
kicks of dread
all the different possibilities
interweaving together constantly

it's borrowed time
the old adage that the rain comes before the storm
but the darker side of that is that
the storm
always
comes

thunder, rain and lightning
lighting up the pitch, starless sky for seconds at a time
so you're fumbling around, tripping and scraping your knees
the booming reverberating in your head your only solace. the only true thing. the only voice you hear.

it's shaking and racked lungs

it's becoming too tired to think about it anymore
it's sleeping it away
because that's your only option

and it's the light peeking over the horizon lifting your eyelids
feeling the dawn slowly coming
the earth being warmed by the red, orange and then yellow sun

it's the relief of peace that calms your labored breathing

it's finally holding someone's hand and actually feeling the glow. the blood under the skin.

it's getting back to that place of knowing







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