I know I'm in my own world... it's okay, they know me here

Headache day = not fun. But I wrote another poem today. It's weird; I was never much of a poet before, but I'm quite enjoying it now. It's like all my creativity is finally finding enough headspace to come back in from the cold wastes of the last few years of struggling to squeeze out enough words to fill a post-it note.

p.s. I know it is not Sunday today but it made a better title


slow sunday prose

I fall in love with
                        narrative
and tone
when
a story is not just a story but
a window; watching
other people’s lives like
            falling
leaves
                        and
                                    blasphemies
and
            the smell of skin under glass
I like to live vicarious
                        deep-ocean feelings
then shelve them when I’m full and brimming with
sweet soft sounds of
distant loves and

pages turning