A Thing of Yellow
It is all I have.
Simple words, struggling words,
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.
Just words, a figment really,
made real by electronics and ink,
line drawings for emotions that only begin as mine,
but as soon as they exist,
become someone else’s to claim or curse
or add a new layer to the confusion.
That is not what I want of course.
I want to cry out. to understand, 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,
releasing them like dandelion seeds
a feeble attempt 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.