Sunday, November 17, 2019

I have a box
Where I hide the hurt, the longing and the melancholy

Some days I take it out,
Open it and take out the pebbles within
And put them in my mouth
To feel their texture
To feel the base of my spine

I close the box
And the blood and the dewdrops
And the ticking clock
And the warm radiators
The washing up
And everyday slices of rhyme
Elide into the next.