i cry on the bus
why?
i don’t know
i search my stories for reasons,
take them out one by one
i want to indulge in them
feast on them
hide in them
feel safe in them
but they are old and rotten –
one quick taste and they fade away on the tip of my tongue
leaving sadness without reasons
tears without stories
*
my world feels empty, deprived of my safety stories
there’s only naked pain
and there’s nothing left to do
but to feel it