Isolation is a crevice in my head, where my thoughts like to dwell and dawdle when grief seeps. Grief seeps, it doesn’t pour. It does not pour like the rain- heavy and dark, then clear and clean when the sun moves out. It seeps slow, smooth and soft. It fills in like the kind of…
Still…
In my breath, there Is a gasp of restlessness In my heart, a knot Of uncoiled emotion Deep in my eyes, there Is nothing Nothing at all to see In my voice, there Is a treble of grief In my head, a plexus Of mindless mumbles Deep in my soul, still Is a desire, Desire…