All you see here is a girl with one eye or maybe a scrawny squirrel. If I shed my skin of self doubt and bare a piece of my soul you won’t rip and tear away at who I am because you don’t know me. You see the cyber face I show you but who I really am is a mystery. My cyber buddy Catherine commented that “we’re gonna have to do something about your sharing.” So I thought, I should do something, I should share because if I can’t open myself up to a world of aspiring authors, who I assume experience the same range of fear, joy and doubt that we all do, then who can I open myself up too? I’m a writer, right? And we all know that words, or more specifically verse, is open to interpretation. So here. Something I wrote tonight, just now, and I will share with you, you of the unnumbered many, which is more than the previous “count them on two hands” that I have shared with before.
Title: The Need
In the lines of the day I sigh.
To see the lack of height that couples me.
Its need wraps around my tongue
And pulls at the depths from within.
I find the loss stiffening and the lack…
Glimmers of random possibilities tease,
Wasting the time of the unavailable.
It’s the gnawing nagging need that breaks me.
And keeps the whole to a half.
Never full, except in moments.
Their accumulations trifle at best.
But it is their existence that keeps me.
Until a worthy enough muse is found.
Then to ash it will burn
Blowing away in the winds of boredom.
Dare there be the everlasting?
I wonder how obvious my verse is. Can you guess? Even if you do I will not award you but my curiosity allows the question.
Okay someone stop me. Something has spiked the poetry bug in me. Ugh.