Inkpaw

sometimes the pain creates a well in my chest
a well 
with a bucket 
that overflows with words
words for how it feels 
at 3 am
when i realize i might never see my grandmother again

i look at the nick nakcs on the windowsill
take in the stained crumb littered green carpet
pick up the yellow mason jar filled full of coins and small green slips of paper 
choises 
like all the ones we make in life

If you are wondering
the answer is no
I can't find my head 
it's left me alone
it ran off with the Mad Hatter to go have some tea 
so please
do not ask me
to use my brain 
for it is off