The Quiet Pull
A single pill rests on the counter--
quiet, small, almost polite.
I told myself it would stay that way.
But days grew thinner,
hours frayed at the edges
and the quiet promise began to hiss.
Friends laughed. I nodded.
My reflection wavered in the glass,
someone familiar yet gone.
The pull was slow - like water eroding stone,
soft at first, then urgent, unstoppable.
I chased the calm it offered,
unmindful of the shadows it left behind,
the nights pulsing with my heartbeat,
the mornings hollowed and quiet.
One day, I reached for air instead...
for the sharp taste of morning,
for voices that held me without judgment,
for a hand that said;
“You are not this. You are still you.”
Healing does not arrive in a flare.
It creeps softly, day by day
teaching the heart to see once more,
to taste the colors that were dimmed,
to carry the weight of the world
without letting it break the soul.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
