A One-Sided Conversation

Folder: 
2019

she told herself

she would not do this again.

 

go wandering alone

in search of company.

 

because isn’t that just what you find

when you stay still

don’t change

like stumbling on quicksand

isn’t that just how you get lost

stumble off cliffs.

 

lost,

she says.

tasting the word in her mouth,

drier than sand,

but almost welcome now.

gone,

she says.

they cannot find me.

 

broken,

she says.

small,

she says.

but there is too much of me

for anyone to handle

too little for me to care about.

 

she told herself

she would not do this again.

go flying around

like there’s something better up there.

there is nothing better

but there is also nothing worse.

 

she told herself

the monsters she dreams up

are so much worse

than the ones under her bed.

 

she told herself

she would not break again.

 

well.

here we are.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 1/16/19

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allets's picture

I Never Discuss

the monsters under my bed. They live on dustmotes. It's getting pretty scudzy under there. Maybe I'll throw some potting soil under there to keep them happy. Or, at least content. - slc



~(:D)-