I don't burn as hot as I used toMature

I am always sad,
whether it is
staring at my ceiling
at two am
or my eyelids
at the sound of melancholy
or walking through the street
at twelve.
I am a train wreck
of apologies,
recklessness,
and foolish emotions.
I am a thousand
scattered memories
stitches through my skin
and tripping me up
with every step.
I shake each day
to its roots
looking for-
a miracle.
For a will,
a desire,
to want oxygen
to flow.
I am faded,
torn pages
soaked in wind,
rain,
and time.
A book that ended
before it ever really
began.
But
I turn a new page
start a new chapter
and stare at the edge,
daring myself
to get a little closer.
I am not endless.
I am a mess
no closer
to getting cleaned up.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed