will i?

i feel the edge threatening to crumble off

asking what will i do when my feet touch air?

will i reach for land or will i leap?

i feel my being breaking apart inside

asking will i give up or harden?

will i reach up or will i fall down?

i feel my heart letting go

asking will i trust it again

or will i just let it rot and bloat?

will i let it soar again or pin it to its place?

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To

to envy the sorrows
that have comforts
*
to question the cares
of those who have
ones to save them
*
to search for a
smaller piece
of a gauzy dream
all glimmering with hope
one where joy
is still buoyant
and ignorant
of the troubles
that follow
***
to deny that a whimper
was heard where a
roar was thoroughly expected
*
to seek the words
that were heard in the heart
but were left unsaid
the air still silent
and stuck within
the breath
wishing to remain
inside
and end what all
it had started
***
and to forget what
hope there ever
was of returning
to that little
sad pit of denial

***

evaporate

“The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune”
– Emily Dickinson

darkening shadow
sits high on misting pane

his beckoning words thrumming on taut string
the tapping syllables within the tin can tring

lazy fingers soothe
a bitten round
on silken shoulder
its swell still ripe
from being plundered

among
pitted sands,
petals, dewy-sliced
lay pierced remains
of the thieving drunk

shelter hides
the sopping invitation
muting the call of lowing reverberations

eying bait dry asunder
lightning flailed
still unheeded thunder

he will await
to finally reach up and
evaporate