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Mar 2018
I find myself

in improvised dances
to songs that scratch at the shadows
of songs before them

I find myself

in blue light that flickers
wavers by the bedside
sends out a sharp, musical sound
just when I feel it's gotten too quiet

I find myself

in colors, complementary
proud on the screen
flashing expertly in the heart of a scene

and I find myself

in the stories of people who are lost
who cannot find themselves
who jut out from their imposed pages
drenched, pouring the thick ink
that makes up the prose
of their pain and passion

so, I find myself

in silly, stealing, fleeting things
in things that time will wear, eat and tear
in pages, in notes, in shared thoughts and vibrant colors
but in each new finite, fictional summer
I find myself there
in its sugar-coated, sweetened care
how I'd love to tie my life up with
bareness, raw knuckles and fists
in a brawl that teases its brevity
and once it's won, maybe a true love kiss
tie it into a neatly knotted bow
and sign the end page with an authors flourish
Written by
touka  19/F/Wilmington, NC
(19/F/Wilmington, NC)   
     Woody, r, g m b, n stiles carmona and psykhe
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