answers that come in small packages
The disappearing nature of the people we have been...
When the tide rises and washes it all away. Grips the sides of the sink and heaves a breath--lungs burn. Wipes the steam from the mirror and don't recognize what is there. Stand trying to make out the stranger. The lost. The one who is forgetting. The one choking. Blink once and see the perfect sand, gentle waves, and sea grass swaying. Blink twice and it's gone--the waves pound into nothing but reality. Wanting never to have felt the warmth when the cold hurts like this. Shut eyes one last time, afraid of what will be there when they open. Open my eyes.
...Find myself slowly disappearing, too.
When the tide rises and washes it all away. Grips the sides of the sink and heaves a breath--lungs burn. Wipes the steam from the mirror and don't recognize what is there. Stand trying to make out the stranger. The lost. The one who is forgetting. The one choking. Blink once and see the perfect sand, gentle waves, and sea grass swaying. Blink twice and it's gone--the waves pound into nothing but reality. Wanting never to have felt the warmth when the cold hurts like this. Shut eyes one last time, afraid of what will be there when they open. Open my eyes.
...Find myself slowly disappearing, too.
posted by Cary at 7:10 AM
2 Comments:
Happy Birthday Cary.. Cha Cha Cha.
Love you.
I want that warmth, too, once I've felt it but I don't know whether to run or to cling, to hide or to reveal.
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