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A mouth that won’t speak
A heart that can’t beat A mind that can’t think A soul that only weeps And a spirit trying to rejoice. Trauma-induced muteness
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I latch on to something real, only to have it dissipate into the chilly air. A thread skips through the knots of my fingers, slithering across the hills of knuckles and finding refuge in the burning rays. What I grasped is gone. Losing sight of reality turns dire when the sun peeks over the horizon, sliding its way over the moon. Who knew the radiance of light could kill a bond I shared. It severed a link. The light kills as bad as the night.
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August 2021
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