Difficult
to explain

why you
and I

clicked

strange
odd

like something
from the Sunday Funnies

whit howland © 2020

I just want to sleep a peaceful slumber
As the rain pitters against my window pane
My bed warm and the lights off
My brain wandering into pleasant dreams
Where flowing fields and whistling birds fly
My friends sitting at a table with pots of never-ending tea
Sweet scones and berry muffins sitting just so
We talk nothings as we drink and laugh
The sun setting next to us filling the skies
Purples, reds, and pinks flowing like water
An eternal party for temporary bliss

I wear my heart on paper
Ink fills my veins like blood
reviews cut like a razor
but I’m addicted to the pen.

I pump words with every heartbeat
I hoard paragraphs in my room
I take interjections like a ******
I wear verbs like a parfum.

I’m feeling the contractions
as I erase awkward phrases
I write sad poems that feel like skin.
and fill sheets of diary pages

I blush at lurid pronouns
that I conjure then,
I consider putting word-play off
but I’m sentenced to the pen
.
.
.
*Inspired by Michael R. Burch's poem: At the Natchez Trace