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Poetry & Art

The Cave (In)

I’m sitting here with my socks that come up past me knees,
Your sweatshirt with the too long sleeves,
Trying to cave in

There’s this little, tiny, speck of a place that exists
Where only one person can fit
And I’d live there forever if I could simply remember how to get there when I need it

I pull the hood down and the strings in tight
Put my knees under the kangaroo pocket where my whole body fits out of sight
And I try to cave in on myself

I can’t continue this conversation in my own head with this stranger I don’t know
Only one of us can stay, the other must go
And I think if only I could get back to my secret spot, if only it’s still empty, it would be enough to cast you out

I am full of sins and bleeding scars
Full of internal and external scars of harm
Full of a kitchen of knives held up to each and every inch of skin on both arms
Full of ways I can cave in on myself that will finally leave me alone and silent

This silence, this cave (in), this escape I pray for each day
It’s only one of the ways I could show you how much I really love you
You may not understand how my lack of existing could prove this is a love that could never end
But don’t you see?
Love lives on beyond me
I am simply a vessel of empty energy living only to take yours from you and suck it up inside me

I’m working on these thoughts
I am only full of green lights, no stops
Full of haves, no have nots
I take and take and take and take more
Another breath, another score
(4-8-7)
Full of promises of solutions to problems I don’t say
Full of “there’s another way”
Full of opening my eyes each day
Full of closing them each morning with the thought of how to get to the point when
I’m not full of not again, not again

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by Heather Griffiths

Receptionist and Esthetician by day, Poet and Scribbler of thoughts by night. Words are the glue that hold my pieces together. I am but a vital and tiny cog. Peace & Kindness, Sarcasm & Laughter. Feminist.

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