rusty

My vocal cords feel rusty

modulating the breath deep inside me

I try to sing a song I’ve sung before and

I can hear the exhaustion vibrating between my mouth

and the space between us.

 

I wonder how I got me

and my soul

here.

This desert where the water of

creativity and inspiration has run

dry.

 

When was the last time

I really sang?

I really took the time

to write?

 

I sit and try to figure out

just when it was that I lost

my way home-

my soulskin.

 

 

 

Categories Creative Writing, Poetry, ProseTags , , , , , ,

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