Punctured. Leaking. Like I was being crushed under gravities weight. With unbearable pressure pulsating in my head was the ache of struggling to console, barely in a position to hold my newborn right. But if I didn’t lay flat,
An ache deep within bones, crawling under tiger-striped skin. Nestled to rest in their first home; an experience passively mentioned, with chances it might creep in. Read for entire poem / reading.