My heart is heavy. My heart is always heavy at this time of the night. It is, as is usual, when every thought, every trouble that I am able to push into the dusty corners of my mind, comes out.
There is a storm and the weather matches my emotions. Torrential and steady, with a hollow beating like a drummer on a drum.
My heart is so heavy, always at this time of the night. And I can never pinpoint just what it is exactly that is making it so heavy.
Is it a longing for the past? An anxiety for the future? A confusion for the present?
Or, perhaps, it is heavy precisely because of an intense combination of this longing, anxiety and confusion. The past, the present and the future colliding in my heart and weighing it down like a rusty anchor.
And with nothing to distract me wholly, nothing to make me forget--even momentarily, my heart becomes heavy.
Always at this time of the night. Always, my heart is so very heavy.
There is a storm and the weather matches my emotions. Torrential and steady, with a hollow beating like a drummer on a drum.
My heart is so heavy, always at this time of the night. And I can never pinpoint just what it is exactly that is making it so heavy.
Is it a longing for the past? An anxiety for the future? A confusion for the present?
Or, perhaps, it is heavy precisely because of an intense combination of this longing, anxiety and confusion. The past, the present and the future colliding in my heart and weighing it down like a rusty anchor.
And with nothing to distract me wholly, nothing to make me forget--even momentarily, my heart becomes heavy.
Always at this time of the night. Always, my heart is so very heavy.
Comments
Post a Comment