Words like "baby" aren't depressing
when you quench me like salad dressing.
You're the drapery in my soul
when I think I'm empty, you know I'm whole.
I rolled out of the womb,
a lump of clay, motionless, fidgets,
screaming for love.
I shambled through life,
a *** forming, cracking, breaking,
searching for myself.
What I eventually found was precious,
but to hold onto this truth proved to be a war.
The chaotic braying of battle subsided
when you fixed me with your eyes
and crossed a room
that seemed the length of an ocean
to pass your living breath into my bones
and I was as an instrument
in your hands.
I was amazed to find,
that I too am your castle in the storm,
that I am your raft over the deep,
and I am humbled
despite feeling so powerful
because something so precious
lies in my monstrous hands
and this brittle gift
is what bonds the bricks of my flesh.
Like a piano, you play me,
and all wonder why I sound so well.
They look to you and they know,
through joys and broken plans,
I'll be safe
in your hands...
It's been a little while since I wrote something.
I had such conviction with writing, especially through the first half of last year, but you know... life :)
I'm trying to connect with writing in a new way, somewhere deep down. I guess I'll know when I figure it out.
As always, enjoy!
DEW