Process

Their words come in waves
Anger
Sadness
Anxiety
They all hit me

Like a wave crashing to the shore
Or what is feels like more
A punch to a personal punching bag
A bag absent of sand and filled with pieces of me
All of me.

It is not their fault,
I let them beat to an emotional pulp
And all that is left
my shell of a heart barely beating

But it is still beating
I still hold on
because there is something to hold on too
Like an almost deflated balloon
I am constantly brought back to life

Her words of encouragement
Lift up my heart and dust off its edges
Even though our lives run in different directions
We always find the time
To sit down
and talk
I am fed by her words

and the tea helps too