There were chapters
I didn’t think I would survive.
Pages I wanted to rip out.
Days I wanted to disappear from.
But somehow,
I kept turning pages.
I kept breathing.
I kept becoming.
The story hurt.
But it didn’t end.
A poetry library for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.
There were chapters
I didn’t think I would survive.
Pages I wanted to rip out.
Days I wanted to disappear from.
But somehow,
I kept turning pages.
I kept breathing.
I kept becoming.
The story hurt.
But it didn’t end.
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