One hand presenting to the gaze
Tracing careful teases
The other partially concealed
Buried in secrets…
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One hand presenting to the gaze
Tracing careful teases
The other partially concealed
Buried in secrets…
Sometimes
No, often
The words come of their own accord
Unsummoned
But still so welcome
I give them a home
A nest to rest in
…
…how much light
Can really be found here
Buried behind heavy doors
Winter’s last cool night
Bright eyes crinkling and shining
Friend’s laughter joyful
Apx. 11:30 p.m.
Whispering engine
Doubts creeping, should not be here
Among melting snow
Apx. 7:15 – 7:30 p.m.
I’ve called on others to analyze me
To evaluate and judge me
To name me as they see fit
Hoping to understand
What they understand
Chasing hopeful light
Persevering night and day
I am still running
(Written on reflection of Wanting to be Wrong from last November.)
A quarter century of shadows
Coating the brain
Decades of void
Staining the heart
bury yourself / in hidden places /
every forceful exhale / purging doubts /
…
Tomorrow arrived
With neither fanfare nor doom
And became tonight
Quietly
Without incident