Given the Floor
I tell you there are oceans of it
I turn my head a little
Not wanting to see in your face
What you will do with what I’ve given you
I tell you confused timelines and repressed logic
Emotions already scalded under the magnifying glass
I show you I’ve no use for them
But that they hinder me
They creep behind and follow
They run through my pink tendrils
Like this yellow acid burning pits, holes
And striating a perfect heart into pulp
And I question it’s beating wherever I go.
The oceans I told you
Are such superfluous pools
I may not extend or breathe into at my own will,
They’re shallow here, deep there
Rich and worthless and terrifying
Against my better judgement.
I won’t ever reveal just how hard
It is to tread for so long.
I tell you the facts, the levels of salt in the water
As I calmly gulp and drown in it,
Beyond the numbing fear
That it has all gone too far
And I will choke on my own chemistry–
Eying you up, scrutinizing your every move,
To see if you can help save what’s left.
2 thoughts on “Given the Floor”
Hello again friend, glad to see you writing your way through — very difficult terrain here, especially finding a poetry for it, but your poems are islands worth swimming for, staying there for as long as they name the moment, and give hope that there’s another one once you let this one go. Keep at it. (I think I already once mentioned that Dante found his way through hell wrapped in Virgil’s meters — it keeps things moving, where the alternatives freeze and spiral. Thumb up. – Brendan
Wow Brendan, my friend, thanks for the encouragement. Yeah you really understood that it was a snippet of a search through something much bigger and whole somehow no matter all the pieces or islands. I’ve been doing just as you say, too, which is great advice–write as it comes and just let it. Let it. Thanks for reading 🙂 Warmth to you and your family