I will listen

Like the filthy inside out sock

squished at the bottom of the hamper

under stench of damp rags.

Life can feel like that place.

Maybe it is time to do some laundry.

There is no rule, no prize for

handling it alone,

an unnecessary isolation.

The borrowed red sweatshirt

arms wide on the top of the mound

is not an accidental reminder of love.

Call. Just call.

Call before you change your mind.

That someone has seen dirt before

and will listen.

If you are struggling today check out this blog, The Mighty, You are not alone.

Awakened to the heaviness. A push

to breathe through a cage too small.

Despair sits on her chest, hands over her mouth.

Alone on this journey, he is no companion

just a magnetic pull toward the mattress

that she wishes never to leave.

He knows what others do not.

That she can’t put it down.

An unseeable stone she carries alone.

How much easier to be pulled under

than to keep afloat.

A desire for lightness like dust

in a ray of light.

If she only knew

invisible hands surround.

Waiting. Just waiting.

For her to say the word.

Help.

Reach out. Listen. You could save a life.

flashlight batteries – Ali Grimshaw