5 senses.

Sun, 06/14/2015 - 22:23 -- jizon20

When my throat is raw

and my eyes are red

from words both unspoken and said

I hear,

The pitter patter of the rain

replicating my pain

and I'm beholden for the roof over my head.

 

When I hyperventilate

and I'm sure my lungs have died

from the breathe I hold inside

I smell,

petrichor fills my nose

I hate that smell, God knows

but I am thankful I am breathing nonetheless.

When my eyes are closed shut

and the tears paint my face

the record in my head still stuck on replay

I see,

The clouds, the sky, the trees 

the pictures on my wall of memories

I am grateful that I can see at all.

And when I'm holding my sides

and curl into a ball

hoping someone, somewhere will catch my fall

I touch,

Feel the beat of my heart

thumping against my scars

much obliged I can reach for the stars.

But when the sun breaks through the clouds

and I shield my face

to protect my dreams, my hope, and my faith

I taste,

Water splashing on my face

the homecooked meal on my plate

and i'm content with my senses

despite my psychological state.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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