Climb inside my chest and feel for yourself
the storm brewing inside.
These words are failing me.
Climb inside me.
Climb inside my chest and feel for yourself
the storm brewing inside.
These words are failing me.
Climb inside me.
The light on the ceiling reflects my bedroom distorted, round-shaped and contained within a globe-
This has been my world
This bed, my fortress of pillows and sad songs and words written in cursive
and feelings for new lips I’ve never felt before…
If you could see me now, what would you think?
Would you laugh at all the tragedy with me?
You always did.
You loved my storms.
I’ve been avoiding blank screens lately. Not because I have nothing to say, but rather because I’m afraid I have too much to share. There is a storm brewing inside me and I find it better to wait it out rather than writing some convoluted post trying to get it all out in less than 2000 characters. Once I figure out a quiet way to let my emotions both identify and clarify themselves, I will put all this energy into some hopefully good writing.
Until then, I’m sitting here listening to the thunderstorms inside me.
Let me know if you’d like to listen with me.