The distractions help to mask the pain

Numb the pain

Avoid the pain

But the night comes, and the evening routine starts and I realize…

The pain is still there.

It creeps in when I wake, a stealthy awareness up my spine…

The itch and burning that tells me something isn’t right…

The crawling of my skin

Feeling as if my skin doesn’t *quite* fit around my body.

When the itch reaches my soul

it settles.

it grows.

it congeals into a hard mass in the middle of my chest

Forcing me to acknowledge its existence.

From the inside out pressure builds

My ribs struggling to hold it in

My breath caught in my thoat

And still it grows, congealing, expanding

My heart aches

It hurts to swallow

It hurts to breathe

My body shrinks in on itself

Pulling my shoulders in

Trying to protect my heart

Trying to escape the pain

My fingers reach out to the keyboard, wanting to beg for release.

Come hug me.

Come snuggle me.

Come love me.

But the words never come.

The entreaty dies

Someone might come

Someone might snuggle

Someone might hold me.

But the entreaty dies

Because whoever responds will not be right…

The tension of needing

Warring with wanting

Stymied by reality

The itch of the pain

Takes over.

And my world shrinks into the hard congealed mass

Trying to breathe

Trying to escape

Relief is elusive

A shadow in the corner of my eye

Memories of you skitter past

Solidifying the pain

Agitating the itch

Condensing my emotions

And I search for solace.




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