Charlotte Eriksson: On Brokenness.

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,
and I still don’t know which month it was then
or what day it is now.
Blurred out lines
from hangovers
to coffee
Another vagabond
lost to love.

4am, alone and on my way;
these are my finest moments.
I scrub my skin
to rid me from
and I still don’t know why I cried.
It was just something in the way you
took my heart
and rearranged my
and I couldn’t recognise
the emptiness you left me with when
you were done. Maybe you
thought my insides would fit
better this way, look
better this way,
to you and us and all
the rest.
But then you must have changed your mind
or made a wrong
because, why did you

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,
and I still don’t know which month it was then
or what day it is now.
I replace cafés with crowded bars
and empty roads with broken bottles
and this town is healing me slowly but
still not slow or fast enough because
there’s no right way to do this.
There is no right way to do this.

–Charlotte Eriksson.


Everything reminds you of everything. You take out the old photos, and delete the messages; get rid of everything– black, and white, and blue and red. Red, blood red is how you feel, red with rage, and hurt, and longing, and ache and despair. But you don’t want to feel anything anymore– so you take out all the souvenirs and memories and burn them under the stark cold dark of night. And you return home, unfeeling; staring at the bare space and listening in on the echo of silence. And you turn up the radio, and listen to uptown funk, and have some cold beer, and watch some football, and you go to bed. You are fine now. But you turn and toss, and turn and toss; you can’t find your sleep. So you sit up, your heart stretched in apathy. You laugh, very very very loud. Your eyes water, and your throat parches, but you keep laughing. Until slowly, but surely, your laughter trickles into loud grief. You let it. For pain demands to be felt. And you realise, one day you’ll have no more tears to cry, and you’ll be fine. But until then, you no longer try to hold it back.

Until then, you decide– the only way to heal, is to feel.


Here’s for everyone breaking, or broken. ❤

PS: “Pain demands to be felt”- Quote culled from John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars.


© The Short Black Girl, 2016.


5 thoughts on “Charlotte Eriksson: On Brokenness.

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