I Can Feel My Heart Beat

I can feel my heart beat

in my chest.

As though

despite the blood flow,

my mind detects

unrest.

We’re always moving

spinning on an axis

time fading into tiny facets

it all passes too quickly

to fathom.

I can’t keep up.

To be a woman

is to change

constantly.

Raised to know your name

is temporary

and your home is fleeting.

When I was little

I envied my brother

our last name was forever his.

Our family line

is one and the same

and yet I will be

some forgotten member

of the family tree.

I struggled to accept

my storyline would soon enough

be lost in time.

To be a woman

is to bid farewell

to multiple versions

of yourself.

- fleeting thoughts 9/26/24

There is the world, reality, and me.

I only wish to not drown in this intrepid battle of gaining perspective.

I remember the feeling of camaraderie like an intoxicating wine and now I find myself dreading small moments of casual interacting. Is it because Im no longer masking?

To grieve what I still have

but need yet to let go of,

is one of the most torturous endeavors

I have ever created for myself.

Reflecting on goodbyes that were said before you ever realized.