As my insides are coming out, I shake about in a lonely haze and tell myself that this is just a phase.
This is all just a phase.
We hang on to broken trees and forget that their leaves too do crumble.
I remember mumbling to you.
My stomach rumbling too.
I was rubber and you were glue.
If I was more guided I would have always sticked to you.
Meditations a celebration for my insides as they come to me again.
I hold my bearings.
I once was crumbling in sin.
Can we begin again?
Can we begin again?,,,
