witchpoetry

[witchpoetry]

You sit in the car scared to death of the reflection you just saw in the rearview mirror. Because you were over the fear, really, you promised. It flashes before your eyes anyways, why not? Your past doesn’t even look back at you but you’re frozen. You’re 15 again, your back against the grass, screaming. It’s as real as the hand you use to cover your open mouth. The fear passes into nothing. You sit in the car empty, your insides carved by years of this. Talk about it, but never feel. I’m there for you, but not like this. Heal, but don’t crumble. You tell yourself this like it’s real. In the end, don’t you always look in the rearview mirror, just in case?