Ruby & Row : Winter Hands

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It hurts.

the only thing I've ever known

in relation to him,

my blood,

is pain.

Anger

so it hurts,

not only on the outside,

but deep within.

there's a hollowness,

yet it's fully filled

with hatred, with redness.

prior to that it was filled with anxiety

angst

depression;

a sort of dark, deep blue

that permeated and floated just beneath

the surface for far too long.

now it's simply cold and numb,

like the way my fingers would feel in the winter

beneath the snow or through the wind

from the hole in the pocket of my pea coat.

my fingers would feel so cold

like they could just fall off

and I wouldn't feel a thing.

I could just fall off now,

off and away from the bloodline

fall off and away from the tree entirely,

and I wouldn't feel a thing.

A hummingbird and a snake

let everything happen to you