there’s pain in my chest
trickles down my arms
and i feel in my fingertips
tears accumulated over the years

what aches
is the realization that
my longing may have been painted
my home may not be it
nostalgia, a bullet lodged in my chest

and i tried to show the wound to others
people sympathize
but where’s the one to take it out
you are nowhere to be found

not right now at least
i feel fine, with a wounded chest
i feel good, with a purple scab
i feel lonely, with people all around
i feel sad, with happiness around
i feel okay, i do
numbness is good
being numb helps with poetry
when i can write about
everything that makes me numb


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