The last time I over looked a topic that deserved a conversation I ended up with seven stitches on the side of a single heartbeat, wondering if hurting had to come with a set of drums banging out my chest, and if each pulpertation will even stop the pain.
I learned that I needed to talk more about every event that goes on in my mind, share the links of disappointment my subconscious keeps sending my heart, and the reverse message always followed by an axe. And again I have to teach my heart that savagery is not whom we built us to be.
Torture had to be my middle name... By the way I can't feel the air I breath, I am suffocating slowly.
©heard
H