My closet is filled to the brim with skeletons.
We’re bored with your rant…
You think you haveSomething to say,But it is the same wordsTumbling over and…
A Writer’s Hibernation
Fits and starts.
I’ve never been one to keep my heart in a cage -
I’m a flower cemented in concrete
Ten steps forward, twenty steps backward -
Some days I fly so high my skin grazes the sun.
I thought I saw your face today —
Please, use me as a doormat.
Wipe off your mud-caked boots on my face.