You are enough

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 10, 2018

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Submitted: July 10, 2018

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I have come to my senses, and when I do I am on my knees. They are raw and sore, and my heart is pulsating like its running its own one organ orchestra. My breath is heaving in and out of my chest, and there are tears at the corner of my eyes. They run down in slow and gentle trails. The silence in the room is so profound you can literally hear the tear drops turning into memories. It has happened again, that moment where I find someone worthy enough to give my all too. And when I come too there is not a lot left of me. But there is blood and it pours from the cavern in my chest; I assume I tried to tear my heart out again, and serve it to you on a silver platter. And you walked away, like people always do. There lays the platter on the ground before me, empty. I see my gaze reflected in its polished silver, and I am ashamed of myself. Ashamed at the fact that I had come so far, only to come crashing down all at once. The tears fall faster and harder, mixing and pooling with blood, tainting the once flawless platter where I planned to place my heart for you. There is something different about this moment however. Instead of me trying desperately to once again tear my heart out of my chest, and offer it to you once more... I begin to look around the room for something, anything that I can stitch myself back up with. I find a box, and it is labeled with laughter. Not just laughter, but the sound of laughter of people who actually care about me. I pull threads out slowly, some of them coming in tangles, some of them as single pieces. I lay the single pieces down beside the bloodied carpet, ignoring the knot for now. I find a needle on a nearby desk, and it is labeled "hope" The needle eye is tiny, but I believe if I focus hard enough I can thread the laughter through the eye and make something beautiful; Happiness. It takes me several tries, and I become frustrated with myself, wanting to throw the needle into the haystack of the insecurity that has become my life and be done with it. But I don't; I persist. And finally I manage to weave a single thread of laughter through the eye of hope. Soon one strand becomes 5, and 5 becomes ten, and before I know it, the knot that I had dealt with before has become unraveled. Nesstled in its colourful core that I have finally unearthed, is a light. The light blinds my tear stained eyes, but I reach for it anyway. My fingers grasp at it lightly, pulling against the energy it is emitting. I try and formulate and understand what this light could be, what it could possibly mean, and why was it hidden amongst the laughter of my most cherished memories. The more I touch and feel, the brighter it glows. Soon it over takes the room. The blood has dried, and so have my tears. The silver platter still lays empty. There is a silence that falls in the room for several seconds before a gentle thrum starts up. It is my heart, and it is beating, slow and steady. When I look down at my chest, I have already thread the needle through my skin, into cross stitch patterns I didn't know I had in me. There is a pattern of curiousity, and a pattern of dreams I thought I had forgotten. They would look almost child like to any one else, but to me they look perfect. As I slide my fingertips across the newly found stitches, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Once the smile tugs and tugs, until eventually it threatens to engulf even the brightest of stars. The light vanishes. I look frantically around for it, hoping it has not gone too far, not yet. Not when I need it most. But then, I hear it. The gentle thrum of my heart beat has turned into words, soft and steady. "You are enough." "You are enough." "You are enough."


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