Reid@YWP

I write too much of things that aren't real. The imagined fear and pain of living a life I haven't got.

This life I have, this life is real, and I am on the precipice of demise. 

Blue and black blur as the football spirals through the air, 

My hands outstretched, 

The ball tumbling closer and closer. 

I drop it. 

I don’t think enough people 

Consider the value of being nice.  

Hold a door open for 

Someone you don't know. 

Give a sandwich to 

I hope every time 
You see the stars at night
Painted on that black Texas sky 
You think of me 

I hope you think of me 
When you see the mountains 
And how they're framed by the sky

No. 

I refuse to be afraid.

We are so caught in the coming climb

We forget to turn and see the cliffs we've scaled.

I am living in a country where a woman is bracing for a climb to greater heights

I rule a kingdom incompetent of content,

My brain may be the bearer of my walls,

The encapsulated fluency of marrow in this bone,

These rugged feet yearn strolling farther in the night;