Loving the misery

After months, years, aeons of sorrow, the pain becomes one with me. So sweet, so brutal, so tender, it becomes the home I reside in. Those are my lakes of tears laying on the ground, my rains in the shower, the stillness and numbness after hours wept, my cloak of sadness and grief, visiting often, almost as best friends. So frequent, so close, so comforting.

Miles passing by unnoticed, scattering the darkness with no purpose. The further I go, the louder the wailing, more and more time runs by, more and more there’s pain to feel. No matter how many days the clock ticks out, a shattered heart, shredded to pieces, still bleeds and splashes onto my days. But the clenching of chest now brings a smile to my face - as an awaited friend it arrives again and again. Torturing, bittersweet moments seems like a lifetime each time they come in. Like a hurricane it sweeps down everything unattached, leaving me hanging in rubles, once more unsettled. Daylight masked with smiles, trying to convince myself it’s getting better. Though nights creep in with an unstoppable wave of raw, real grief as deep as all oceans with only one thought to keep me afloat - my grief is as deep as the love that I feel. So no matter how many lonely nights there are, how much more sorrow there will be, the amount of lakes that will gather again on my floor, I wouldn’t change it to nothing in the world, knowing that all of this is another side of love. The torturing, the exhausting, the bittersweet, still mine.