When I lose control

BY

I tear
the tips off
my nails. I bite
on my cuticles
until they’re raw,
and damaged.
I’m raw
and damaged,
like the clothes
I wear away,
pulling on
the fine strings
of my sanity.

Photo by Vinur.

Recent Posts

September’s Letter

Poems & notes on home, belonging, relationships, and everyday life delivered to your inbox.

Previous Post

Next Post

Leave a Reply

Discover more from September's House

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading

Discover more from September's House

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading