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convincing
myself kissing her was a bad idea was one of the hardest things i've done
in years.
stagnant slow chords repeating through sweat slipping my fingers.
i'm on fire inside my room alone,
repeating the accidental motion
on the keyboard, A followed by
C, yet without me knowing which
notes, but knowing what keys
go with what other keys and
seeing that edging the piano,
focus tap, thrust, space, thrust
space into my life,
thrust, space, into my life,
separated words depicting my
every thing.
music, words, and arms and backs.
my doorlife like, giving room
to walk through and hoping someone
will.
frustrating the life of cave, painted
and marked with history and hopeful
wisdom, hoping for a passer by
despite the growth around his
openings.
but a cave doesn't know it's getting older.
perhaps i should forget that as well.
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