It's been a little while since I tried this
self-therapy via words
that I won't share with anyone
but strangers near or far
a little while since my prose
got up from their beds
dusted off some cobwebs
and stretched their limbs
a little while since the black ichor
the ink that sometimes
bleeds out onto laptop keys
became mediocre poetry
and I get it, life's been hard
not too hard, but busy
not emotionally, but physically
and I didn't really need it
but I missed this
this little stretch of mental finesse
this warming up of metaphors
this cracking of poetic knuckles
Maybe this is what it's like to be understood.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 2:42 AM UTC
It's been a little while since I tried this
self-therapy via words
that I won't share with anyone
but strangers near or far
a little while since my prose
got up from their beds
dusted off some cobwebs
and stretched their limbs
a little while since the black ichor
the ink that sometimes
bleeds out onto laptop keys
became mediocre poetry
and I get it, life's been hard
not too hard, but busy
not emotionally, but physically
and I didn't really need it
but I missed this
this little stretch of mental finesse
this warming up of metaphors
this cracking of poetic knuckles
Maybe this is what it's like to be understood.
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