Nia Rose Writes

A poetry Blog

Glass Prison

By Nia Rose

I'm thinking of you as I drag my body out of the cocoon 
and attempt to start my day.
It feels like a cosmic joke, starting a new day you’ll never know.
I still feel shivers down my spine and wonder if it's you,
or if I'm simply yearning for you so deeply,
my mind has imagined a version of your touch. 
My bones feel denser than lead, and more damaged than my spirit.
It’s as if each cell of my being has been infiltrated with thick virulent venom.
The stickiness coats my throat, making it hard to catch my breath most days.

I’ve lost a lot, which means I had a lot to lose, 
and I suppose I should find some solace in that.
Still, I can't help but feel as though
everything that remains in my life is on display within a glass prison,
“Do Not Touch” signs littered throughout.
I fear that if my essence makes contact with those delicate walls,
they will shatter into a thousand sharp pieces, leaving me with even less.
For this reason, I make myself small enough so I never reach the edge.
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