I’ve been lying at the foot of the couch Not on the cushions, just on the carpet With my lips shut tight and my eyes wide open Finding patterns in the ceiling Ridges and shadows form constellations I used to do this when I was a little girl Finding snowflakes and moose antlers The traced outlines of autumn leaves And pearl necklaces On the ceiling Shapes made out of the ceiling’s uneven surface Shapes made out of shadows I haven’t had this sort of space in a while Space inside my mind Enough space for trivial things Like making shapes out of shadows My darkest black has become The color of the ace of spades in a playing card deck It used to be the color of ash and coal But my darkest black Is so much of a lighter black now I haven’t had room for thoughts like these in a while There wasn’t room to think about nothing Because my mind was being taken up by thoughts of blades And numbers and letters and measuring tapes But not anymore I cleared out all that And now I have room For thinking about nothing at all For making shapes in the ceiling Shapes made out of shadows
Repost if you have room in your mind for trivial things now, and you didn’t before at some point. Or if you just really like to repost stuff, then you go on and feel free to do that! I fully support that! ;P Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art!
Repost if you have room in your mind for trivial things now, and you didn’t before at some point. Or if you just really like to repost stuff, then you go on and feel free to do that! I fully support that! ;P Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art!