New Year

The new year is making your cheeks warm and you can’t remember the last time your heart didn’t race in the silence.

It’s so hard to tell them how you would drink poison if it meant their legs still carried your weight and it’s been months since you felt safe here — in this cushion of love which means to provide it nonetheless. In this room you scream at death’s door and beg for answers to questions you have not yet asked! You shriek and the walls rumble and it is felt through miles how this plea is being held by your mother’s hands.

You can’t tell the difference between the voices in your head anymore. It feels good, doesn’t it? To press your ear against the glass and not hear it echo around you.

— ODH