I try to reach out
believe it, or not…
I’m obviously not very good at it.
Same as I am with communicating
with those
that matter to me…
parts of me
are scattered into oblivion,
in the spaces
beyond the proverbial reach,
or slumbering
through open-eyed fugue,
the other part of me observes it all
in micro-fine,
the many things you’re trying to say,
the support you offer up
with a smile,
the moments you think I’ve gone,
the moments
you see I’m still seeing you,
the truth is like
the softest of cottontail,
fluttering by in the blink of my eye,
frustrating butter fingers like mine,
the moments
I’m bloodied and bruised,
the torment
I heap upon you,
the unfair things
I admittedly do,
the parts
not watching over things,
like auto pilot
doppelganger zombies,
somebody puts on my make up,
and someone else
must fold my laundry,
no plane
can get me high enough,
no breaker breaks my spirit,
nothing feels real or alive,
the diorama scene,
faulty to the breeze.
How beautiful! I really enjoyed reading this, thank you for sharing!
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Nice one!
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