It often goes unnoticed.
Like the cocooned monster wrapped in spider webs in my stomach.
And just when you hurt most, it decided it has a heart.
To beat. To thrash. To ponder.



Everything you thought your life was, it breaks it down to nothing.




A monster.
Thinking and rethinking the possibilities to every situation that happened years ago.
And I’m often left crossed-legged on my bed.
Staring at the dark walls in a room too small for so many thoughts.





And the arteries that keep me bound together unravel the aches of every sentence.





I crash every so often when it becomes too much.
The sensitivity of everything isn’t numb to me anymore.
And it was those past couple of days I ended up under the covers in your bed.
While you held me, you held a monster.




And every inch of me wanted you to let go.




And the unwanted tears that caressed your pillow weren’t meant to show.
As I dripped every inch of me, you caught every drop.
And why you helped me, I couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to leave.
Something so comforting couldn’t really embrace me.




When I was bound with spider stitched embers, watching myself die from the inside.




And yet I wanted you to love me, but I pushed you away from the parts I couldn’t love myself.
I pushed you away.
And through the lines that you read, I knew you could see that.
And as I struggled to internally hurt myself, I managed to hurt you as well.





And every artery that re-stitched this morning is screaming I’m sorry.






Last night I said, “I wasn’t used to being so happy.”
You said, “Well, get used to it.”





I’m learning.
While swallowing the spiders.
And choking up the cocoon I tend to build within myself.
And maybe tomorrow, I’ll learn to breathe.





I’ll learn how to fly.

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