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
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!
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Thank you so much! That’s exactly what it is and it’s reassuring to know it isn’t just me 💛
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Simply beautiful 🖤
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💛
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