Right In The Feels

 i have run out of space in my chest

to store all the things on which i should ponder.

Instead i stack memories and musings

in the cave system of my gut.

And sometimes i turn in on myself

and sleep under the acid rain

because the burning of remembering this hoard

feels better than a life with no caverns or chasms.

Some things should be burrowed into your identity.

To remind you that you stole something from Heaven once,

and that love, stout enough for your famished heart,

does exist.