Things didn’t make sense for her
like a gnawing feeling inside her
to open a bookstore in the desert,
the pinnacle of solitude
Like we squandered an opportunity
by not having books in the middle of it
Who could have thought of this
but her
The one who wakes up when the moon rises
Nocturnal thoughts her best friend
With the nearby lake serving as her mirror
Her caffeine the smell of thorny roses
and her morning the night full of crickety silence
interrupted only by the fizz of a shooting star
that passes through her eyes every night
just to check ‘is she alive?’
She hasn’t seen light in a long long time
Last night when she thought about time
all she could make sense of it was that
it existed as long as she was blinking
Time contorted whenever she slept
into nightmares full of solar eclipses
But when she woke up to the moon
She could never make sense of the way she felt
She could never make sense of the heaviness
that rested in her mind like the weight of a moment
that she dreaded to confront
That is when it made sense to her
She dreaded to confront the light of the morning
It’s been too long since she felt a type of way
that is gentle enough for her
to hold an iota of positive self worth
which permits her
to finally wake up to a sunrise
Very descriptive writing. Brings me into your head. 👍🏽👌🏽
Thank you. Have a nice stay here haha 🙂
It’s a very creative place to visit … wouldn’t want to stay! Might make me crazy 😜
Hahaha i agree. Keep on visiting then 🙂
Beautiful 😍
Thank you 🙂
“open a bookstore in the desert” — awesome!!
Thank you Michael 💫
You write wonderfully!
Thank you Khwahish 🖤
beautiful words layered together…
Thank you 💫
Beautifully written poem! Your words are engaging.
I enjoyed reading this…I like your style of writing,very much:)
Thank you for sharing this poem. 😊 there’s so much in it, so much depth, my mind will be thinking about it still in the coming days.
Means a lot Hamish 🙂