thanks
3 Nov
it’s been
stealing over me
again
disconnect
not fitting
in my space in my
skin
like before
when it came and stayed
-for months and months
that time-
-i think in thoughts tinged
with numbness-
don’t want to go
down that
rabbit hole again
talk to me
-i tell
her
wanting to hear
words to help me
sleep-
tell me things
i don’t tell
her
that i want
to take her words
her voice her
spirit
and stuff it all
inside
to fill the emptiness
what does it mean
now?
-i wonder-
something swirling
in space
but not yet visible
to me?
***
She
whispers, pulling
me close
and i roll onto
her
wanting to absorb
everything
i can and
then
i sleep.
***
i wake to
silky blonde hair
little fists
rubbing sleepy eyes
‘mommy i’m hungry’
and rise
leaving her asleep
in our bed.
our bed.
in our home.
so many changes
for me
and mine
oatmeal
-with honey
of course-
in a pink plastic bowl
made quickly
paper grabbed
to scrawl out
words that needed
release
and with release
comes
-as it so often
does-
relief from
pressure to figure
to understand
to know
and all that is
left is to
just be
just me
just words
on torn paper
on a dark wood table
next to a pink plastic
bowl
filled with oatmeal.
***
she comes up
behind me
in the kitchen
and i turn
to bury
my face in her
shoulder
finding
everything
in her
arms
i feel you today
-i say-
i know
-she says-
that’s because
last night you called for
me in your sleep
and i came to
you
crawled inside,
filled you
up
ah,
-i say-
thats why i feel
so different
this morning.
thanks.
it’s been
stealing over me
again
disconnect
not fitting
in my space in my
skin
like before
when it came and stayed
-for months and months
that time-
-i think in thoughts tinged
with numbness-
don’t want to go
down that
rabbit hole again
talk to me
-i tell
her
wanting to hear
words to help me
sleep-
tell me things
i don’t tell
her
that i want
to take her words
her voice her
spirit
and stuff it all
inside
to fill the emptiness
what does it mean
now?
-i wonder-
something swirling
in space
but not yet visible
to me?
***
She
whispers, pulling
me close
and i roll onto
her
wanting to absorb
everything
i can and
then
i sleep.
***
i wake to
silky blonde hair
little fists
rubbing sleepy eyes
‘mommy i’m hungry’
and rise
leaving her asleep
in our bed.
our bed.
in our home.
so many changes
for me
and mine
oatmeal
-with honey
of course-
in a pink plastic bowl
made quickly
paper grabbed
to scrawl out
words that needed
release
and with release
comes
-as it so often
does-
relief from
pressure to figure
to understand
to know
and all that is
left is to
just be
just me
just words
on torn paper
on a dark wood table
next to a pink plastic
bowl
filled with oatmeal.
***
she comes up
behind me
in the kitchen
and i turn
to bury
my face in her
shoulder
finding
everything
in her
arms
i feel you today
-i say-
i know
-she says-
that’s because
last night you called for
me in your sleep
and i came to
you
crawled inside,
filled you
up
ah,
-i say-
thats why i feel
so different
this morning.
thanks.
absolutely stunning
absolutely
Normally I don’t care for poetry, but strangely yours I love? Thanks.
Beautiful.