brightness

I'm splintering, 
fracturing.

The monster inside me 
is winning the war. 

The room tilts, 
everything is bright, 
a sterile white, 
the shadows only spots
that swim lazily
across my eyelids 
when I close my eyes. 

I close my eyes
too often now. 

The light is blinding, 
the absence of shapes
confuses me. 

The couch, the walls, 
the Christmas tree 
still up in July. 

All blend
into the brightness
that pulses.

This is not a drunken poem. 
I am not an alcoholic. 
I don't sit 
alone by my phone
waiting for texts 
that never come. 

I am not a broken woman. 
This is not a shattered heart.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s