On (almost) giving into habit

By Medha

There’s an empty pit in the centre of my body

Where my grief used to sit

My body doesn’t feel full (of hurt) anymore

Is happiness supposed to scare you so much?

Has sadness always been this welcoming?

A confession:

I still see myself in front of the darkness

Aching to go inside

It’s been a while since the echoes in my head have stopped

My mind feels a little too empty these days

(along with my body)

The edge of the building is like a siren

Still calling out to me

(some days I almost give in)

A realisation:

It takes time to get used to sunlight

Dripping down your skin

The sun is blinding first, beautiful second

The cement on my roof sticks to my legs as I peer over the edge

My house now knows every single place I go to give up

Sadness sits heavy in your lungs when it doesn’t have a reason to be there

Your skin heals quick but your eyes carry memories of white trickling down your face

The colour is addictive

But happiness is more

I’ve been told

(i’m still trying to believe it)

One day I’ll look down and won’t see a ghost

One day I’ll look down and I won’t be a ghost

By Medha