Friday, 17 November 2017

shake, bend, break

a few hours is usually all it takes - fists raised, a toe posed dramatically above the water

i walk down southbank dressed in black with pristine vision

i turn on myself when a man sits next to me on the train

dim memory of what it felt like to stand tall, once

children dance on tables in the park -

i bend over once again to remember how grown i am

go under to coax out the strength i was promised with this age



i leave when i want, i take what i need, i say what i think
i leave when i want, i take what i need, i say what i think



yeah a few hours, usually that's the limit, 

and i fold back into my car

drive far far far back to where i came from


the little cocoon now with a blemish

like touching a stovetop when i remember

that weight we shared

No comments:

Post a Comment