the call of the cordiform void

there are things that make me grieve in deeper shades than blue

i've forgotten that sadness speaks a language i do not and we

live in separate homes now, so what is this sickening feeling

that takes her place? when i say that i am crying what i really mean

is that i hear a deep crack in my chest and am sure that the real me

is suffocating, ripping to get out, squeezing itself through tears in the

corners of my eyes, through deep-not-deep-enough sighs, through the

ache in my stomach like simmering coals it burns to have someplace to scream

and i cant get enough air or enough words to tell my mother that i am glass

she is water. glass moves like any liquid of science, but slow, so very slow and

someday solid. and someday shattered. and someday grains of sand. i could not tell her which phase of the life of glass i am in but i take deep breaths, blow, and imagine shaping myself into a glass bottle, putting a message in it, corking, floating out to sea. will someone find me? will someone pull me out of salt water and storms?

there are 7 billion pairs of hands on this earth that touch the same things and feel something different. 7 billion eyes that see the same world in 7 billion different stories.

this is how it is to be a single cell in the earth's body. to take up space and leave no footprint. there are people that speak dead languages,

people that are beautiful with their windows closed. stories only in minds, never on paper.

and even the idols wake up shivering at night afraid to be themselves, the people in power

feel their hearts drop because they've never reached tomorrow. and me, i am afraid

because i haven't met myself yet, i live with locked doors and tip toe quietly down the

halls like i am afraid to wake a monster. i don't know what to feel. this mask is here too long and my body grows itself to fit it. i leave like day, i exist in leaving. i leave the night

reluctantly, hanging on, like a game defeated. i leave the table hungry and wonder if the hungers add up someday. i leave something of my heart behind when i wake up from a dream like i've left all i've lived for. i tell myself the room is a prison, but there are moments when the sun comes in and i realize it is me, my body, my cold mind. this is a mourning

in some color i never learned. and that is fair. don't believe that there are no unknown colors to exist. they do. and did you see the eyes of the people empty where their heart fled away? from grief or loss of pain, they lost something and they see between color. where words end, color breathes heavily. at school we learn that the colorful animals are the dangerous ones. you know when you see the shade of grief's eyes. when i say i'm crying

i mean that i wash that color out of my own eyes, but somehow it sticks. i will say it again until i am more than a cell that keeps the world pumping. i will say it again, louder this time. yet there is no beautiful way to say that i am grieving.