Better Days

I used to watch the hands on the clock turn

ticking slowly on until the hours were finally laid to rest,

tossed in a pile with the rest of my wasted days.

Each eyelid flutter at the break of dawn conceived waves of disappointment,

every breath saturated with a kind of defeat only known to those who no longer have a will to live.

Countdowns like damaged hourglasses pulsating through seeping veins seemed to never run out of time, despite the crimson sand draining from it’s cracked exterior.

Happiness became nothing but a conspiracy theory,

each sliver of proof continually countered with a carefully fabricated lie.

My bones began to break, each excruciating crack echoing through the hollow walls of a barren mind.

A barely beating heart left to rot in a basement of unheard screams for rescue can only survive for as long as it takes to make one last fatal mistake.

I conversed with my window sills and interrogated my doorknobs, coming to the conclusion that maybe I wasn’t meant to see tomorrow.

My bathroom floor convinced me that my time had run out, that the kitchen sink didn’t need me anymore and the shower curtains wouldn’t notice if I was gone.

So I said my goodbye’s and prepared for the end of everything I’d ever known, deciding one last time to eradicate every trace of the body that somehow still lingered.

But somewhere between states of consciousness,

a feeling I hadn’t experienced crawled its way up my spine and settled between my shoulder blades.

Fear gripped the deepest parts of my chest and shook me awake and for the first time, I was more afraid to die than I was to live.

Since that day, flowers have blossomed in a garden that was once nothing but a graveyard dedicated to every part of myself that I hated.

Metaphors have befriended the mutilated parts of my soul and repaired them through handcrafted poetry, and I have found love in places I never would have imagined.

Each passing day has become more than just hands on a clock, more than a burden to count down the minutes of.

Excitement and joy has replaced the defeat and disappointment of waking up, and I have finally learned to love myself.

Every soft breeze screams “you made it” and every breath drips with purpose and hope for a tomorrow that will be worth the brokenness and pain of yesterday.