I find myself yearning

for another time,

for the solitude

I became accustomed to.

I have forgotten the unhappiness

and I see strength

in my hollowed out cheeks;

I forget the weight I lost,

I forget how little I ate,

the grief in my throat

for every part of me

I’d given away to someone

less deserving than myself.

I forget how I slept in the lounge

instead of the bedroom

because trauma is louder

than buttoned up silence.

I see what I want to see

and romanticise a time

of sadness as deep as the wells

in my cheeks.

I yearn for the brokenness –

the peace in being soft –

the excuses I had for watching the sea

ignoring whatever time it said

on the clock.



Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Signed copies on Etsy

4 thoughts on “Yearning

  1. Scrunch Foldington says:

    This piece spoke to me on a deep level, I recognized my own depression in some of these lines. Not just say, sleeping on the couch because the bed is too far away, but the way we look back and romanticize our own suffering. Being depressed is safe, predictable and easy. Healing and living, those things are hard. It’s an elusive feeling, that paradoxical yearning for a darker time, but you’ve captured it perfectly. Great stuff!

    Liked by 1 person

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