This morning I was all black daffodils and headless mannequins,
the hours turned into twisted clouds that always look like rain,
this morning I was ripped white duvets, spindle bookcases,
thick laminate book covers stolen from library stacks.
Tonight I am a yawning cat stretch, a heart one beat off,
a tiny jar of salt from leftover tears.
I shoved my face into a towel today, let out one sob and
went about my day.
(I can’t even find the effort to cry.)
Tonight I am a half-deflated balloon, forgotten in the corner of a room,
I am the sun hiding on the other side of the world,
I am a smile just waiting to burst,
I am sore muscle ripped sweatshirt blanket cocoon.
This morning I was an unopened window and tonight I am
blinds hiding the night.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:18 AM UTC
This morning I was all black daffodils and headless mannequins,
the hours turned into twisted clouds that always look like rain,
this morning I was ripped white duvets, spindle bookcases,
thick laminate book covers stolen from library stacks.
Tonight I am a yawning cat stretch, a heart one beat off,
a tiny jar of salt from leftover tears.
I shoved my face into a towel today, let out one sob and
went about my day.
(I can’t even find the effort to cry.)
Tonight I am a half-deflated balloon, forgotten in the corner of a room,
I am the sun hiding on the other side of the world,
I am a smile just waiting to burst,
I am sore muscle ripped sweatshirt blanket cocoon.
This morning I was an unopened window and tonight I am
blinds hiding the night.
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