Tuesday, April 16, 2013

some seeds fall on the concrete napowrimo #16

i pulled weeds from my veins
to keep the empty spots from
filling up inside me. they stopped
sprouting the day i heard your voice.

i was a seed that landed on the
concrete, grasped at crevices
like the homeless takes
change; took a jackhammer
to my heart because of all the
years it’s been smoothed over.

it was not my intention to
get lost in the jitterbug of
these insecurities; these bones
that have been buried
for as long as i remembered to forget.

some days, all we do is
panic; lay our petals on
the table in hopes that
someone will connect
the dots of our troubles and
solve them like an 8th grade
math problem. light the
cigarette and taste the
ash because we lack the
ability to understand ourselves.

that’s when i realized, we were perfect. 

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