sometimes.
The skies open...
on purpose, I'm convinced.
And I'm gasping for a single breath
without choking on it all.
And the drops pelt every inch of me.
Until I can not bear another sensation
On my skin.
I feel like clawing at my body with the very
maddening nature of it all.
Then with an almost audible snap
it shuts.
I dry slowly with time,
Then just to be cruel--
am not given a single drop more--
till my dryness is slightly uncomfortable.
Then nearly unbearable.
Where all my skin feels chapped.
And I imagine that all of it will chip away.
And I'm completely stagnant
Not wanting to move for fear of drying out further.
It's then that I think of you.
 |
| Delve |
You're so talented. I love the raw emotion that you put on the page for us. Wishing you a wonderful Thanksgiving Jillien. Keep writing and feeling like you do. You have to keep that creative spark in you going. I believe in you!
ReplyDeleteInteresting poem and a likewise journey through temperature and change.
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Mark Butkus
Hello.
ReplyDeleteNice imagery & flow. Thanks for sharing.
Her Perfumed Scent