sky high poetry

cold winter morning, sunrays peeking through my blinds
my bed is comfy
too comfy
and i'm empty.

empty, but i'm full
happy, and i'm not
i'm in shards, yet perfectly intact.

confusing emotions, conflicting existence
carry with me a past that i can't seem to shake but my present is a paradise;
water and acid, i'm the reaction
volatile mix, prone to explosion.

protect my peace with coffee and laughter and joyful conversation
but sometimes, when all goes quiet my brain counts down
five
four
three
two
one
and suddenly
my peace is in pieces.

can't seem to reconcile my hurt with my healing
how do you patch a wound that's not always open
but never quite closed?

the world is spinning outside my window
and i'm rotting
rotting
rotting.

can't change the days gone by
tomorrow may be another
maybe there's no point in letting the pain paint my present but god, dam, it hurts -
fresh coat, never dry.

trauma's not forgotten by time
yes, i've found calm after my storm of chaos but i'm still picking up debris and sometimes,
i'd rather just sit in it.

there are days where i wake up and smile at the morning sun
full to the brim, my peace firmly in place
just water, no acid.

there are others where i'm completely corroded, exploded.

this winter morning, i'm mourning
confused and conflicted, contrast of emotions
there's black and there;s white, happy and there's sad, dark and there's light, i'm okay but no i'm not and god,
how fucking exhausting.

i'd rather sink into my comfy bed
and feel nothing
nothing 
nothing 
at all.