LiSten

Sometimes I remind myself to listen. When there’s silence, just listen. Listen to the grass growing up trying to brush the sky with its fingertips, to the concrete straining to hold us together, to us trying to be both grass and concrete. If I take a moment I can hear it all. My mind finally in tune to all the things my ears so diligently deliver.

I can hear the noise I’ve been making echoing. Its remnants are a violent shadow of the person holding me back. I can hear the grinding when I dug this Hollow. I can hear the salt of tears I’ve swallowed rubbing against the bloody keratin of my finger nails from when I carved a place to hide. I can hear my cowardice. This is where I made funeral of my dreams. I sobbed instead of prayed and I can hear them still begging.

I can hear my Teeth become powder.

I can hear the Hollow filling with light. I can hear my dreams become grass. I can hear the concrete of who I was collapsing under who I’m becoming. I can hear the future.

Sometimes, I remind myself to listen. When there’s silence, I listen. Amazing what you’ll let yourself go deaf to.

Read , then re-read. I’m sure you’ll find something here for you. Something here *of* you.

You’re a gem thanks for being here.