The Phantom of my bosom
am I still allowed to cry?
This thought came into my mind today, when I felt the lump in my throat.
Feelings of conviction flushed over me,
was I allowed to feel this way?
I've come so far, accomplished so much and yet,
It still haunts me.
My best friend would say "don't give way to any power, that doesn't deserve you"
my stomach rotated around the axis of its center.
I heard her voice.
But I thrashed in my mind from wall to wall,
flipping tables, and throwing glass thoughts.
Shattering this urge to cry
I still, did.
I felt like, I lost.
Handing over the torch to the ghost that is not supposed to live here anymore,
as if we’re taking turns.
Night sweats drench my pillows.
Shouldn't I be over this by now?
It's stupefying,
how a deceased love, still slithers around,
but then another voice entered through the shards of broken glass,
slowly descending its way down the spiral staircase of my heart,
it picked up one of the thoughts off the floor, the one that said, cry.
And so we wept.
About the Creator
Natasha Collazo
**Studying Modern Journalism NYU **
Student @ American Writers & Artists Institute
Project: The diary of an emo Latina (2025)
Content and freelance creator
✍🏽
Inquiries: [email protected]
Instagram: @sunnycollazo
Do all things in love
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More stories from Natasha Collazo and writers in Poets and other communities.
I First Saw Him
When I first saw him sitting on the wall, relaxed and looking out over the water, I was sure he wasn't a local. Not including children, there are only about 250 or 300 of us in this area full-time, though that number is ten-fold in the summer, and I know everyone at least by sight or by family resemblance. And yet, the way he sat looked familiar and started my mind sorting and discarding among the families I knew, not quite like this one, not quite like that one.
By Natalie Wilkinson7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (7)
still slithers around - I love the slipperyness of this, the way that presence is there and is not there in such sudden, unpredictable ways.
When I first read that title I thought, "breast cancer?" After reading the poem it's a lot clearer. It's okay to cry even if You already did. I had a loved one passed away and I didn't cry until months afterwards, and I thought I was crying because I couldn't shed a tear for my loved one during the funeral. Emotions hit us in waves and sometimes we are not allowed to grieve. Yet, grieving is the process of letting go. Sometimes that process even means having to let go more than once cause remnants of memories will still occur. I know that sometimes I'll get angry at mistreatment from years ago, but I'm better now than I was back then, but that doesn't mean that my anger isn't unjustified. It's okay to feel sad. Is it okay to feel sad all the time? I feel like I'm obligated to say no. As even in misfortune there is a silver lining of fortune (huh, Silver Lining, silver, precious metal) that we must struggle to see. Doesn't mean we'll appreciate it out the gate, but time allows us to comprehend what we don't desire to.
Trigger tingles in a good way. A good cry is tragically underrated.
Gosh this was soooo poignantly beautiful! Also, I find crying to be very therapeutic!
I wish I could do something to help heal your broken heart, Natasha. But I'm not even able to heal my own. That having been said, your poem here captured the essence of that struggle between standing strong & moving on & giving in extremely well. Prayers & blessings to you.
We all grieve differently and in different time restraints...well done expressing that!
I love how the Idea that it is alright to "feel" is presented here!