i measure time stitch by careful stitch my needle smoothly gliding through the fabric rhythmic measured the threads weaving a kind of peace with each
I have learned to wear solitude quietly an old quilt draped over sharp shoulder blades engulfed in threadbare patches of memory that I worry with lonely fingertips
i am a woman built of words it is not natural comfortable intuitive for me to tie my tongue tightly to choose silence to be
i do not speak with forked tongue yet you damn me a demon paint my hands blood red cut me black diamond hard innocent misunderstanding?
hyper- focus is an art i slip into words into screen until i am nothing. . . nothing but blinking cursor nothing but task decoded
poetry is oft written by those who love too much too freely hearts splayed open on sterile dissection trays cool stainless pins trapping vulnerable fluttering
words sit thick in my mouth a peanut butter and regret sandwich that i can neither swallow nor expel onto the empty plate a stasis
you may have my heart I do not need it anymore I have replaced it with clockwork elegant diamond hard it ticks faithfully reliably beneath