Catharsis

This process of relief,

becoming the only thing I am willing my whole being to do,

breathing doesn’t even seem like a need so much as this repress of emotions releasing from my soul.

Blood moons,

blood wounds,

blood body,

blood head,

my heart torn in between all,

between the moments at the beach; dancing in glittering moon shards,

sand on toes, feeling like snow – cold to touch but soft to step,

much like how I feel most days, really somehow just quite inept.

Trying to cleanse,

trying to clean,

trying to be pure for both you and me.

Drama that has been caused,

heart-break, heart-ache, heart-murmur, heart-fake.

All for us, it seems to be.

All for us, just little leaves.