the world is noon sunday or night
inside or out
matters not
and no matter
how hard I look
I cannot find
my sunglasses
__________
maybe it's not them
maybe it's me
maybe it's not out there
but in here
and maybe
just perhaps
it's been there all
along
a thorn
in the soul
gifted
at birth
a pain
not visible
growing
with the years
maturing
with limb
matriculating
into that world
of clear skies
and forever sun
those invisible rays
making felt
what
can't
be
seen
__________
2 comments:
You never cease to amaze me. Are you published? Because if not... that is a crime.
Athena, I'm only published on this blog (and my FB wall).
Your comment is like a string, pulling a sigh from deep inside, my ribs collapsing in the void, my heart the only contour on the map of my skin, beating as if it had eyes for you, for your comment, for the timing of your visit and I sit here, just a beating heart, watching you hold that string. Thank you it says.
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