Submitted Date 02/27/2019

He is our playlists.

Soft melodies, slow and calming.

He is love songs.

He is hands holding me together when the world looks like broken glass.

When I forget how air feels inside my lungs, instead it feels like blood.

He is shaking hands tucked around my shoulder, heads pulled under covers, because we are to young to be this brave.

He is to young to piece me back together after some other boy smashed through me like porcelain dolls.

He is a brace around my chest and one around my waist when I can not feel my body anymore.

He is hands in my line of sight, slow movements and gentle fingers because “Gun shy” is a clever way to say “don’t hurt me again”, your body doesn’t know fight or flight any more, your stuck in a loop fright and freeze, fright and freeze.

So he found his way around my own body, seeped himself into my nerves and made his home in my veins so he could learn it from the inside out.

He is deep breaths and disappearing panic attacks, soft melodies, slow and calm.

He is love songs.


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  • Tomas Chough 3 years, 9 months ago

    Your writing's so passionate Christine! Keep it up! Thanks for sharing.

  • Miranda Fotia 3 years, 8 months ago


  • No name 3 years, 8 months ago

    I feel this so closely. Thanks for sharing.