Posted in Poetry

Her

i need to become her, again.

if only for a little while.

 

i need to sink knees

into a soft stomach,

and curl fingers

into fists.

 

i need the quiet,

and the laughter,

and the pain,

and the music.

 

music, music, music.

 

i need to be her again,

because she’s the only version of myself

that knows how to heal.

 

i will hold her hand,

and quietly step back.

i will allow her to take my place,

to sit down on weathered knees,

and cry, and cry, and cry.

 

i will sit here, and wait.

i will listen to music,

watch Glee,

and drown my thoughts

on liquid sounds,

until there’s nothing left but her.

 

her, her, her.

 

i need to become her, again.

if only for a little while.

if only for a night.

if only for an hour.

 

i need to hold her hand.

i need to cry.

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Author:

23-year-old writer from Chile. Currently reading, writing, and trying not to lose my mind.

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