Ice Frozen Miscarriage-Kindra M. Austin

Sometimes I imagine myself not plummeting,

but falling slowly,

spiraling

uncontrolled into the black;

the nonentity is dizzying and cold like outer space,

unsympathetic.

I’m only a miscarriage of

wishes and wisdom,

ice frozen,

looking for a comet

to start my heart—ignite some

fucking passion.

My brain feels itchy,

like heavy wet wool.

I’m not crazy.

I just want to

lift

the

latch

attached to my skull.

Open the hatch.

Get rid of the blanket.

I hate the day you were born.

The absence of you crushes me.

4 Comments Add yours

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s