"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life"
the shoe drops, the clock hand turns, lungs rise and fall
gravity pulls me back, a tear rushes to my eye, the phone rings
a nurse complains, life continues on to them unchanged
I sit in my chair, bruised knees under my desk, feet on the floor
I sit in wonder and astonishment of this love that I don't deserve
I sit in fear and worry that he'll take his love back from me
my foot taps, time moves on to three-thirty, I breathe in and out
reality hits me again, I brush the tear away, I hang up the phone
I guess I still have some poetry in me.
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
I haven't written poetry in weeks, maybe months. I can't remember the last time I sat with my worn down pencil and let the words flow out in short sporadic bursts, smudging the clean white paper with confused and questioning thoughts, sometimes thoughts of certainty, usually thoughts of self disgust and worry. I could try but the idea of attempting to force my emotions out into sentences that will later seem pithy and unimportant...that idea truly disgusts me. I've never had a writing blockage like this before. But I want to say: