deepundergroundpoetry.com

Black Balloon

   
   
grief is a part of me  
has been a mantra    
since my womb died  
   
sometimes his ring finger  
cannot hear the fists I pound  
into breeze block walls  
   
I’m numb from the waist down  
yet some nights it feels    
like everywhere    
   
like the hair I pull out in strands  
once under control  
that I can’t seem to stop  
   
or walking the supermarket aisles    
dreaming of vodka smiles  
in wide eyed relief  
   
sometimes I feel as if  
I am more apology  
than girl  
   
as if disgust is something    
I have to pardon, when  
the uncomfortable one is me    
   
I crawl into bed exhausted  
mapping a desperate outline  
in the mirage of the sea
 
 
 
Written by Northern_Soul
Published
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