By Halle Mar

I dictate the highs and lows of my life with the amount I’m writing
I haven’t written in months
I walk home with your taste in my mouth, waiting for it to fade
I’m supposed to savor that taste
Relief floods my veins as water washes over my tongue, taking away any trace of you
When you hold my hand I don’t feel anything
A blank piece of paper
A freshly made bed
The song I’ve been listening to for the past days, until the words mean nothing to me
My heart like the steady sound of my footsteps climbing the stairs to my first period classroom,
Monotonous beating against linoleum, against concrete, my head against the bathroom floor
I tell you I care for you the same way I say I’m not hungry
Yes I’m sure, please don’t ask me again, I promise, please believe me
How much have you eaten?
Enough.

This poem is called “enough.” It’s about feeling empty, not feeling what you think you should. It comes from a place of feeling blank and unexpressed, getting set into a routine of vacancy in head and heart. This piece means to me letting out unspoken truths, such as not loving someone, or not eating enough. These are things you don’t tend to tell people, so they slip to the back of your mind and become part of the routine. Poetry is a very significant part of my life, and quite honestly, a savior of it. Poetry allows you to bleed without the demand for blood.