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There’s a thread that
keeps me home
keeps my mouth sewn
won’t let me let go of you,
my muse

for so long you held no form
like lace, inchoate, not fully formed
Then you took shape
filled in the gaps that kept me questioning
kept me in quest of something…

but you shunned beauty
with a turn of your face
and the words, now like shrapnel
impale the throat, the gut punched to a limitless space
— where there is no plasticity —
no origin of heat connecting me to each posterior blaze

it’s a fade
and then a whisper so faint
when words evaporate and contain no space

Breathe & Be Still ©2024

The words have been there for so long but without the will to string them together. Thanks to J.D. Harms for the baton hand-off.

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