Other Ways to Heal


On my walks at sunset

I still hope

you’re the one who cares

what’s in my head.


Even when most of the seconds

I am wondering why

and my pillows have soaked in so many tears

they could probably

fill your sink when you finally get out of bed.


I tear out all these thoughts and toss them out the window

it feels like I am throwing you off the road


they’ll grow a garden.


Maybe I’ll get to make the colors into space

instead of space into color

like they usually

expect me to do.


When you have learned to let it go

I haven’t been told that way

I want to be the hand under your head

without being over you.


I am sick of caring about the wrong things

so if they wonder

why I don’t write anymore…

there are other

ways to heal.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 10/23/18

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