my heart is pounding.
my blood is pumping through my veins.
i can feel my lungs slowly fill with air as i inhale
the smoke that has always clouded my mind.
the pulsating of my heart whispers to me
"you are alive"
but it was not a promise i could keep.
YOU ARE READING
poetry trip.
PoetryA collection of poems about trauma, grief, addiction, childhood, and loss.
