Hanging By A Thread...

Hello everyone...  I've been going through a breakup of my relationship of the past four years and three months, and I just wrote a poem of the things I'm feeling...it's the first thing I've written in about two weeks.... I'm still extremely raw and i think this poem shows it...  Long and short of it, it was a long distance relationship and it just couldn't work as it exists.. maybe someday it'll return, but irregardless of what happens in the future, i need to move on.. and this is how I've been feeling...I hope you enjoy for this is an extremely raw open look at myself.

Hanging by a thread... 

My threadbare soul speaks rivers

To the soul of the pain, the heartbreak that I feel

The jagged peaks of my heart stab through my chest

And somehow there's just one solitary

thread.... stringing out from one of those gaps, one of those bleeding holes

The thread holds strong, yet it wavers, protesting under the strain of the mind.

The mind revolts, whirling and whipping that single thread.

The thread protests, saying I can't take it anymore. The thread begs permission to break.

The mind fights and fights

Yelling to itself,

Don't You Dare Break.... Don't break.

Because if you break, nothing else will make sense,

Nothingness will consume her life.

Nothingness will consume her heart, giving the heartbreak permission to win.

Breaking is not an option.

Yet, the thread expands and contracts, as experiences test its strength,

Strength that neither brain nor heart knew it had.

The whirling dervish that is taking over the heart and stomach and mind

Contorts the heart,

Makes the stomach flip and flop, nausea overruling

The uncried tears sliding down the throat like fingers on a chalkboard, giving her

A painful sore throat that only drink can cure.

Apple cider, soda, juice, nothing quite heals the pain-- sinuses raking her throat.

The thread revolts, a memory seeps through her closed eyes, his face a broken dream

Formerly so comfortable, now so deadly.

Her eyes fly open and the thread tugs, that face vivid, tears leak, unwelcomed.

Her soul feels empty, the thread feels as if its the last bit existing.

If that soul, the thread, breaks, nothingness will eat her alive.

Her body aches, her mind aches, the fight eternal, the fight somewhat...

Over.

Hanging by a thread, she grabs the closest thing she can find.

Friends arms, the table, her cat, a book.

Squeezing her eyes shut, shaking her head free of the persistent memory, fighting against that desire to break.

Breaking is not an option.
Breaking means she lost herself

Breaking is not an option

Because she is not done living.