salt filled regret

Which of these tearings

These (salt filled) scars

Were self inflicted

And which were like a knife

Washed in from the tide

Like glass reflecting in ocean waves

Where the cloth dries up innocent blood

But does it even matter

Where all the blood comes from?

Did i do myself a favor 

The day I decided to feel every fiber

Every sting and burn of my body and mind

To feel it all

To fall

Is that the right thing to do?

I am so so tired

Of always asking

*

When should i listen?

When can i trust what I am feeling?

This bruning of being here

And yet i have stayed

Like a bride in the snow

With purple fingers and a white nose

Thinking i was not made for love

But maybe I would have ached all along, no matter where I would have belonged

But i still know, something here is missing

When every breath of fresh air feels like a new lung

An organ awaited

And being once again in that warm light i think will hug and kiss my skin

I instead feel the sting deep whitin

Of not enough

Or not what I needed

Is it worth it?

Worth it all?

I do not know