the jab in your side
stuck high in your rib
in and out
it's not enough
we have no time
speaking in closed doors
you could love
sitting in clouds of smoke
when you're all alone
we made plans
promises made with aching veins
open eyes and empty minds
you're not anywhere
feel your lungs waiting
smaller and quieter
bones at my collar
holding nothing else inside
the space where we used to be
stuck between minds and reality
jump and fall
jump and fall
For a long time I didn't want to create anything because I was scared of looking back at it in the future and finding that the only way I could communicate my thoughts was forced or feeble or diluted by how much I could transfer from my mind to paper; of the muse I have lost I now see there is no intellect in how I feel or in my ability to explain it. I want to know that I can hold my reality and every truth that I feel now will be mine forever
No comments:
Post a Comment