UNTITLEd by laura cohen

If you could see inside
your words would not be those words.
Micro jolts, friendly comments/
“You seem back to normal”
normal doesn’t live here
anymore.
Those words slipping/
well intentioned tongues
wake up sad reminders
of what was, before
that day.
Memories of blackness
babies, futures flash by
SMASH!
If you could see inside
the injuries would tell their story
ragged bloody knuckles
crawling, crawling …
out of this pit.
In that place, loss lives  
what was - isn’t  
like vapour
Going, going – gone.
You don’t know - can’t know
how it feels to be stripped
down to your naked core.
Something new awaits… you say
empty enthusiasm for the one /
the one who waits
for a future not yet seen.
But you would know
If you looked inside.