angelamwilcox
I have carried one
For twenty seven years
I have no idea where the fuel comes from
To keep it burning
Why your name is now etched in the palm of my hand
Where I have clutched this torch
But I do know that it gives
A beautiful
Light.
In the night
Of Love
You take what's not yours
To fill some need, some hole
Silent and stealthy
Breakfast? Snack? Dinner every night of the week?
Any time. This twisty doughy salty puzzle of delight
Can fill the need
And make you happy
And bring you peace
And light
And love.
Hillocks, green tunnels
Where my foot sinks
As I run from the large tree that is first base
to the sidewalk square that is second.
Mole hills
Ruin my game.
I’m not so sad when the cat
comes home with you dangling
from the corner of her mouth.
Hillocks, green tunnels
Where my foot sinks
As I run from the large three that is first base
to the sidewalk square that is second.
Mole hills
Ruin my game.
I'm not so sad when the cat
comes home with you dangling
from the corner of her mouth.
It takes only a little convincing
that I deserve it
that I work so hard, and that no one else really understands
and that surely, this won't hurt
anyone
and that I will be better, if only I can have
this
one
time
Cold nights
Still
Clear
Bleakness and anguish
Distilled in an icy glass
I think there's a reason
I find vodka depressing.
Luminous
Radiant
Iridescent light moves from somewhere inside
The center
Outward
Not the focus
But
The source
Under the layers
Under flesh and nerve
Muscle and vein
Under life itself
The structure that shapes us
But without the layers
What are we?
Sticks and stones and broken.
Inevitable disappointment
As we hope once again, work toward that anticipated end
Think, dream that this time
Really,
It's going to be different.
And then we console ourselves that at least
We tried
At least we dreamed, we hoped
At least we haven't given in
Given up.
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writing since 2011 · 35 entries · 33 days shown up
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