Writing

"we all have our 'i peeled my orange today' stories."

bright letters fill my screen.

i'm pondering if i should message you,

or just let you be.

i give in;

I drink soda probably way too much. It's sitting here beside me in the car, full to the top of the Pepsi symbol, and the condensation is making the cup-holder damp. DN24, the light post says in front of the car. R6.

Well, here we go again.

The urge to write a poem

but unsure what to write about.

That’s what this is.

slide the depths of your voice from the dust-lungs of your body,

spirit fluttering iridescent ivory feathers into the ianthine arteries of your heart.

breathe and you etch a cross onto your subconscious, glowing like

My world is different 

A new place 

A new name

Yet still just the same as last year

Still the same crushing sorrow

Still the same grief as last year

does anybody else get that feeling deep in their chest, sharp like it's begging to come out but also soft as in fire soft, embers in a hole in the ground?