Oh it’s here again creeping and crawling and scratching and my nose is running but my feet cannot my mind does not keep up with the keys they are too soft the world is shattering around me nothing is making sense I’m feeling helpless again I’m feeling alone again the sun is setting again oh I’m not sure how long this will last are you busy can you talk can I cry in front of you just this once that’s okay I’ll be okay yes I’m sure I promise I’m not lying oh it’s dark again wailing and revving and gusting the windows scream inside our home I am sinking into the cushion you don’t need to pull me up I can live here like this just like this scratching and wailing yes that’s okay the keys are steady ringing my heart is beating my lungs are expanding my blood is flowing my mind is swimming this means I am alive oh yes it’s here again this being of cold air he will see to it that I am taken care of see he has thrown a blanket on the ground and this will be enough
— ODH
About the Creator
Olivia Dodge
22 | Chicago
ig: l1vyzzzz & lntlmate
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Combination of November Cold and Autumn Storms
November brings cold before it arrives— an appetizer to snowstorms and the webs between my toes cracking like caramelized oil. I lie in bed and my heart aches. The angels in our walls have hidden, a collage missing blue completed only when the sun sleeps in early day, and the forecast shows a break in clouds but this thunder is unforgiving. Inches away relief scoffs in my ears with bright lights. I never noticed the trim on the ceiling; did you? Abstract vases, abstract voices, will you please release this air inside of me for one moment— quietly, softly, do not disturb relief. Hung on the north wall it now finds rest, the centerpiece for guests. I will reach out and I will hold my breath and I will try my best to place my heart aside. I invite you to stand and observe— see this darkness drown the floors. Panic feels familiar beneath my skin, manifesting behind my eyes and should I check my pulse? As I suspected. How the need for words squirms in my throat. Are you still awake? November is here and purple paint is standing aside giving room for small light to grow. Breathe this breath in heaven and do not let it go. Give me your hand, take it from my chest. I feel I will implode with silent sobs if this warmth does not touch me. Will you hold me? Just until I fall asleep.
By Olivia Dodgeabout a year ago in Poets
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