If feelings were faucets—
what a relief—
Turn the lever—
a slow drip.
Go through the day—
a dry reservoir.
Another dead fish
grinning in the sun.
Another dead leaf
pinwheeling
in the wind.
Others will shout,
“How colorful!”
while I spiral,
helpless—
yet happy—
all through
the afternoon.
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 6:17 AM UTC
If feelings were faucets—
what a relief—
Turn the lever—
a slow drip.
Go through the day—
a dry reservoir.
Another dead fish
grinning in the sun.
Another dead leaf
pinwheeling
in the wind.
Others will shout,
“How colorful!”
while I spiral,
helpless—
yet happy—
all through
the afternoon.
