A patient tongue
awaits wordless peace
amidst chaos,
among the swirl of ideas,


Tattered breath
matches the palpitation
of an anxious heart
and so on.
How long will it go on?

A decision must be spoken

before long:
Will the shattered be mended
or left behind,


A clarity is somewhere
beneath the rubble
aching to be unearthed,
but I'm still here



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metaphorist's picture

When I had previously read this, I thought I was the "patient tongue". But that can't be right. I have never been patient. Ever. Even now lol.

And you were right I wasn't ready. I used to think that was not a good enough reason for breaking up with someone. But you were so right! I wasn't ready because I didn't love myself at all so I couldn't believe you had any reason to love me. End of story.