Some days I want to forget you
And listen to my own voice.
The mind wandering, the distractions
Are there of course
But when my voice would surface from the background
It would be authentic, real
Just the way I am.
I wouldn’t feel the pressure of changing me,
Nor my voice would change. For you.
How she takes care of the heart
When it’s bruised so many times
With rotten eggs, or bullets like pain
The twist and turn of head
The shaking of legs
Breathing now, or not breathing
Swelling eyes with no tears there
Only the soul – the mighty one
That could hold it all
In this heart.