Tiny Package

Tiny Package

I remember

this

beautiful containment

a neat and tiny package

buzzing numbness

almost like being alive

almost...

I'm tired of my own voice

messy and overflowing

spilling like sticky blood

 never to be washed away

closing my eyes

I reach my stained hands toward you

but I still see her

too much to hold

too much to love

I remember

this

beautiful containment... 

Angela Minard 2016©