I can feel it, damp density, it clings to me
As I walk in. The door is shut,
The draught seems binding,
My path unwinding,
And yet it seems somewhat
Confined, and I stand resigned,
All that's left is to hand in my mind,
And hang out my tears to dry.
Yet when I sit in that familiar place,
The physicality fawns over me,
My molded shadow in mental form,
My missing window won't shatter in the storm,
My blindness and my outlook interlaced.
And like the first ray of dawn,
I can feel the first shake,
I tremble unbound feeling restlessly awake,
And I wish that I could fall asleep,
But like little pricks of sunshine
The reality slowly heats it's way,
Up and out, back to that day,
And I'm left feeling cold,
The burn seems benign.
My return was untold,
My yearning refined.
No comments:
Post a Comment