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Click hereAmateur Prose
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I feel my lips trembling.
Then the wetness on my cheeks and my body shakes with sobs.
I bring my knees into my chest and wrap my arms around my legs tightly.
Crawling up into a ball.
I try to be as small as possible.
Put my hands over my forehead, I suck in air.
Breathe, I tell myself.
Music just makes all this shit easier to swallow.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 37,500 poems.
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"I try to be as small as possible."
we all have our ways of doing this,
good approach to the universality of this
and music like a teaspoon of sugar to make the shit go down
annaswirls