A Thing of Yellow
It is all I have.
words to bind my own wounds,
words that flail like a lost boy,
words that frame a world I never quite understand,
and a love beyond my expectations or deserving.
a figment really,
made real by electronics and ink,
that only start out as mine,
but as soon as they exist,
become someone else’s
or add a new layer to the confusion.
That is not what I want of course.
I want to cry out.
to feel, most of all, to feel
that which was taken from me
by those that purported to love
and never, really, knew how.
And so I write words to fill the empty spaces
in my soul. I release them like dandelion seeds
in a desire to make my whole dark life
a thing of yellow.
The picture is one of the few on this blog that is not mine. It is stock photography I used for a marketing project for a client.