Pinch Me PTSD

I learned never to leave the trodden pathBy walking into a wasp nest.For the 150 wasps that attacked me,Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt that much.Each sting didn’t hurt more than a pinch.But I suppose trauma sometimes doesn’t careAbout how much it hurt in the first place.When you re-live the helpless fear of running through a forestLike

The Unwilling Ghost of Your Ex-Lover

I do not linger in your room at 4 am on purpose.I wish you could sleep through the nightWithout the lamp of my eyesPiercing through your mind.I wish you could sleep in your bedWithout tingles along your spine. But my ghost can’t leave. When we fell in love, our souls recognized each otherLike a squirrel

I’m Waiting For

I’m waiting for: The sun to peak over the horizon.A single bird to sing over fields. Petals of a snowdrop to replace the snow.Lambs to bleat for the first time. My feet to be reminded of softness of grass. Trees to protect me from the shade.The air to be a sea salt breeze. Cornwall fudge