Old Memories

Posted: June 23, 2017 in Uncategorized

I make a conscious and concerted effort to persuade myself
not to be anxious
not to fret.

The memory of phones ringing late at night
the crazy that comes at you after dark
friend and foe alike eager to disturb the peace.

Long ragged scars extend down through the years
old memories like fresh wounds
bitterness taints clarity.

I lack the energy to care
my vitality worn away by worry
exhaustion is its own kind of peace.

Acceptance and avoidance are a reasonable response
when the rooms are empty
and the house is quiet.

  1. ohhhh exhaustion is its own kind of peace, yup yup yup


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