I watched you in the shadows as the waves tided over your cheeks and my heart unfurled but broke into fragments tinier than they should ever be. I’m peering underneath into the burrows of the ground in hope to find the right actions coupled with the cold that ran through my veins. I’m looking under numb feet and behind trembling hands only to find myself coming back up to the surface for gulps of much needed air. Maybe it’s the piercing wind and the thorns of our imagination chasing the light faster than we’d prefer. Maybe it’s the rising and falling of a broken tempo tragically being dragged on leaving our hearts swollen and our skin drained. If finding ourselves is where we aim to arrive at eventually, why do I feel like we’re both losing who we are?
Recently, because of all the excess spare time that I have on hand, I’ve really gotten into searching out good writing prompts and then getting to work on them. I might throw some out here, I might not, but right now I’m happy to say that I’ve finally got time to be doing what I can be satisfied with. I would consider that I had at least a little foresight to save tons of prompts into my laptop over the months while I was still in school, saves lots of time now.
From within myself stems a disgusting flow of sadness that I cannot contain enough through my own efforts. I am so thoroughly spent over clawing between two sides of what should be an established stand of certainty, and even hopeful clarity.
It is all I; I that have brought about shaking waves of tears and none of the promised sun that I once deceivingly carried along with me. I that have spread- through angry words and actions - the unsteady decisions that I once thought I knew so well.
Once found, we now must wait to be sought for again.