I could waste hours
mourning amidst invisible flowers
soaking in silence
silence fogged with thoughts
my eyes could fix against the ceiling
open to all memories to play across the stage
maybe let my eyes swell
wash the blank stare off this face
or I could just stay here
involuntarily futile
for some reason
when I lay here alone
feeling nothing but space
is ironically so comforting
so soothing
either charging me up
or brittling my bones
increasing sensitivity
this state was left behind in my box of the past
but it was not ready to be forgotten
we need a reality check
sometimes too often.
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