the poetry in motion that sliced
your breathing in half and told you
life was yours for the taking, but fear
arrested you and you fell
dripping with sweat that never left
but left you cold with a sheen
that you couldn’t shake.
the heat that coursed through
your 18 year old vessels, with his weight
decadently pressed at the heels
of what feels good
but never felt enough
and you lay in the empty bed
that once held
both your weights.
the photographs stuck along walls,
pressed on with blu-tack that’s
lost all blue ages ago. You smile,
you think. Wondering.
Who that girl is
and who these people are
because she isn’t you
and you don’t know them.
the words that fail you, stepping off
the plane that brought you
to a city you haven’t seen
more than a handful of times
but call Home because it holds
some semblance of Family
you don’t know and have never felt
connected to in any way.
the cathartic screen, blank with a green
publish button and words that pour
fourth but never capture
what you truly mean because
what’s a feeling really gotta do
with anything, y’knaw wud I mean?
Gnawing at your insides
cause it just don’t feel right
when you arrive back in a place where
you have brief History, but no real empathy
with nothing but sunlight and a suitcase
full of antiquated memories
trying to breach who you are with
who you are now.
The words pause
and you break
lines and stanzas
out of place. out of step. out of line. out of definitions. out of fear. out of stubbornness. out of reasons to not. out of longing. out of the past. out of here. out of comfort.
outside of you.