Not like what Neruda meant when he said ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines’ But I just want my fingers to flow into words. I don’t care if it means anything. let it just flow. And here it goes
I will stand up and walk towards the porch
I will look up to see if tomorrow’s sun can be seen
I will find myself alone for a moment
holding my own hand for I fear
I might also leave me tonight.
It doesn’t matter who leaves whom
Everyone is free to leave..
Just don’t be a stranger when they return.
Yes some return because
their journeys are not what they think they are
promises break way more often
that we know
I will say this to myself tonight
you have hidden a whole sentence under the pillow
every night you take a word..
you pull out a letter..
you chew on it till the sun rises.
What is left..?
Does it mean anything?
I look at my right hand holding my left
they seem to think they don’t belong
to the same person…
I smile at them…
I don’t want to ruin a good moment
I let it be…
What one hand does…. the other hand need not know
I have heard somewhere.
As long as I know..
I am good…
Categories: Poets and Poems
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