If words were strings…
I’d be swinging low from them.
Holding on with burning fists.
Legs tangled between.
I keep my jaw tight.
My teeth are the guards that hold the gate shut.
That keep these thoughts hostage
To stay asleep in only my mind.
I find they take form.
Faces and disasters that paint my dreams.
Shut my eyes to see all these realities explode.
No clarity.
Just faces and faces and things I wish.
Days gone that I wish never ended.
Things spoken that I never did forget.
Each chapter has its lesson.
I’m breathing deep to find a rhythm.
Humming through the hard parts.
Waiting for the break in the page.
The moment of change.
The chance at light.
That one line you wait the entire book for.
Sometimes it never comes.
And maybe it wont.
Maybe I get to the end and there I am.
With pages in empty hands.
With paper already filled with words....and not the ending I wrote.
It’s all about taking in each line.
Finding yourself in between the metaphors.
Reciting the parts that make life feel like more.
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