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Your absence is A terrible kind of safety: You left a world That would have tried harder To do the job itself. Your armor now Is wood and soil, but Better than the fragile heart And skin to bear the wounds. The space where you were Will never heal But there is comfort In the weight of knowing Nothing can touch you now. The relief feels Like burning and betrayal Like a mouthful of pills, Like a phantom limb Grateful for the severance.
About the Creator
Mina Carey
Self proclaimed weirdo, collector of hobbies, creator of worlds and hunter of mysteries. Let's find our new hyperfixation together.
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