she says, pretend you're not writing it
03.07.04
_

haven't felt like this since before
my heart erupted,
echoes spilling into that
part of me where the careless happiness
blossomed

- am floundering - -

this type of poem requires
a hand between its shoulderblades
and a push

i am
shaking so hard i have
the strength for
neither

and maybe
that's a relief

the familiar may be bleak but
at least it's
warm