This poem is especially close to home for me because I suffer from PTSD and at times like this when it weighs me down, its harder to breathe than it should be.
Some days, I spend the whole day
feeling like as I walk,
as I move,
I leave behind a slight heat signature.
Evidence that I was there.
Like my mind is bleeding. Like
my dreams and the bad things in them
have found a way
I miss time. Time misses me.
Conversations in anticipation of conversations
that will likely never happen.
that I am prepared for.
Because I have practiced.
and again, while making coffee.
The clock that stopped four days ago says
it’s lunchtime. The computer says I should have eaten
The blackness says
I should keep practicing.
Someone may come.
I may need to
I missed the signs before.
Must get it right.
Whatever it is.