"A river with no bed is just a flood",

That’s what I tell myself as the water digs through me,

It carves itself a resting place inside my heart.

Who knew that water could be so heavy?

 

I can feel myself dying.

At least it will end eventually,

Hopefully what’s left of me will be eased.

The parts of me that still exist hurt like hell

Because all they do is remember

And fears forgetfulness.

I’m exhausted,

I’m heavy,

Like the jet stream ripping through me;

It shakes me,

I’m unsteady now.

 

I walk on clouds,

But I drown in my river deeper than its surface. 

All of a sudden I can’t breathe,

But: “I’m fine…”

 

As my heart erodes,

I still feel.

I can feel the pieces of me break off and change,

And it hurts to remember.

Especially if you’ve lost a piece a while ago,

And you were reminded of it,

Now that you remember,

You can never ever forget again.

 

I wonder if the river dies,

Could I get myself back again?