Fragility and Pride

paper scribbles and half drawn lines
around words that sit silently on my tongue
something that sits right beneath my rib bones
it fills some sort of hole with
radiance that makes me feel an entirely different
sort of whole
and there are lines of tension
among the lines around our eyes
that remind us that we have laughed and cried
and lived

despite the consequences of it all
we believe
this life is beautiful
even when
we cannot fall asleep at night without the warmth of another body
because our anxiety is cold and double edged
we are young and
we are jailed in the way we have drawn ourselves
scribbles that we accidentally made permanent
and erase marks that show our desperation

facades tear easily
so i guess this strength is real
we are brick and mortar
weathered and torn and we put our faces on
to look like we have never been fresher
instead of being proud of the ailing
the dying the suffering that makes the
“everything else”
worth it

we are statues and monuments and we are crumbling
and i am proud
of the way
we hold each others hands for just a moment
and fall asleep for just a moment
and wake up and pretend
it never happened

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