I am not the innocence you thought me to be
I’m scarred and torn from the inside out
Been held down and held out and held you in my hand
And I’m not sorry I ever let you in.
See, I’m a Tuesday in a Wednesday dress
Walking slowly with an elegant step
That sings songs of bygone;
A ministry of typewriters click-clacking away,
Mindfully absent, worrying about another day
That’s long past the next Prime Minister’s term.
I spill coffee in my hands to smell the beans,
Leaving a thorough understanding
Of what you do to me.
Though I leave my open door ajar,
I walk past and sing my song.
Tag: held
Holes (day 1597)
Here I held
A circular indent
Ellipsing
As a hole
Exactly 29 Times (day 988)
Mystically speaking, the proverbs are relating accurately;
Horizontally strengthened with the thinnest of threads
Circled around my baby finger exactly 29 times
In a very tightly strewn pattern, accidentally.
Insomniac. Running at top speeds with wild horses;
That old farmhouse sitting amongst poppies and buttercups
Where I’ve lived once before; a feeling from depths unexplainable
Leveraging it’s way amongst modernities.
So it was a callused palm that broke this frozen spell;
Alone upon a park bench of inner city, inner beauty,
Brook bubbling by with homeless and suits (much quicker)
An eye awoke to stretch it’s glorious wings wide.
To which I had never encountered before;
To who I had never held hands with before;
To where I had never stepped in and amongst before;
To here, to this home of a quietly broken fear.
