crawling up that hill (prompt 17)

I couldn’t make it through the episode without dissolving in a fit of tears
like exposure therapy like the fullest release like finally being seen
in my exquisite suffering
not unique to me but rarely written into scenes
I’ve never seen it played back that way

I observed hopefully, intently, as others watched it too
but I’m confused – didn’t you see what I saw?

are the parallels being lost
are we on the same channel
is this thing even on?

how was the similarity not jarring
all too familiar warning signs
until they’re fighting to pull her close
almost too late

pleading that they are right here
they don’t want letters
they want to be let in

but it’s not that fucking easy

it’s
just
not

this creature is a curse that lingers peripheral
whispers in your sleep
steals you right out from underneath their noses

and you fight it
with everything you have
running for your life
screaming and flailing
stumbling
barely escaping
this time

this time

until you wake up in that haunted place again
on unsuspecting days
that creeping headache never fully releasing
it’s grip
it’s got it’s claws dug in
wake up running again
fighting again
body on the verge of breaking
it wants to wear you down
catch you when you’re alone
at your most defenseless

how long can it be drowned out with music
with memories of better days of connection of loved ones still living
before the grief and the fear and the guilt

those bittersweet moments
seared into the front of your mind
like your survival depends on them
projected large and clear
impossible to miss
impossible to leave behind
dragging you back from the ledge

the same ledge I’ve been on for half of my life
carved my initials into it years ago
so that you’d know I was no stranger
I want you to see it
I want you to understand

that this is a curse – sinister and dangerous
contagious and invisible

until you learn what to look for

One thought on “crawling up that hill (prompt 17)

  1. WOW. This is so deep. I literally felt the misery loving company. I kinda felt like I was living a past life while reading this. Such a numb, comfortable, unsettling memory. I love poetry. You turned something dark into a candle in the wind. Thanks

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