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Tattered
A patient tongue
awaits wordless peace
amidst chaos,
among the swirl of ideas,
intuition.
Tattered breath
matches the palpitation
of an anxious heart
and so on.
How long will it go on?
A decision must be spoken
before long:
Will the shattered be mended
or left behind,
scattered?
A clarity is somewhere
beneath the rubble
aching to be unearthed,
but I'm still here
puzzled.
When I had previously read this, I thought I was the "patient tongue". But that can't be right. I have never been patient. Ever. Even now lol.
And you were right I wasn't ready. I used to think that was not a good enough reason for breaking up with someone. But you were so right! I wasn't ready because I didn't love myself at all so I couldn't believe you had any reason to love me. End of story.