by maria rumasuglia

my soul is black

and it's deep like heartbreak

and heavy as stone

and as thick as ink

and it is pressing on top of me

like last nights one night stand

like dead weight

so that I can't lift my arms

or spread my legs

it feels like I am walking through mud

but it's only life

it's only shallow people

and disappointment

and there is so much ugly around me

I feel it turning my soul to black

to dark

and dirty

and heavy like smoke

and I don't know if i'm carrying around a broken heart

or a broken child inside of me

but my past is present all the time

and my hands are starting to slip from the weight of these things

the weight of regret

and pain

and sadness

and wanting to go back

and start over

and wanting to fix things

and wanting a new childhood

and wondering if things could have been different 

if I could have done things different

if it would have mattered 

if I was born into a different life

if my mother had married a different man

if she had different goals for herself

if she had a stronger will

a stronger set of hands

if she fought back

if she wasn't living in black

if she wasn't destined for the dark

the cruel

the violent

if she was meant for better

would I have had better

would I be a lighter version of myself

a simpler, more carefree version

would I be more aware of my self worth

would I take better care of my body

would I be innocent

less damaged

lighter, brighter 

yellow like the sun

blue like the skies

not black like soil

red as passion

white as clouds


like the bursting flames of a sunrise


like the sound of laughter

not black like night

like death


like life

or would I even be