n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.
He’s the traitor that lies within my walls hiding in plain sight for all to see
Playing his drums loud and proud a beat all his own
He plays my tunes for all to hear,
A symphony of all my secrets poured out to an audience of one
To squeeze out of hiding every note I’ve held dear; Strumming through my arteries the lyrics of my soul Bruising my veins with the quill of my truth till I bled the traitor that’s become my heart on his guitar.
The sun in your eyes
makes me want to see you in the sunshine
and bathe in your rays,
even though the night has always been good to us, the twilight purveying the art in our love in a silhouette of mismatched emotions,
but its always been beneath the sun’s light that our solo aria becomes a duet
As I type in this title, all I can think about is take me back!
Take me back to a time my thoughts did not need ink to flow inebriated, when it just flowed down in a rush like a broken faucet.
Take me back to the time of deep depths and bottomless wells. where my words would race down on paper leaving me baffled as to their origin.
I wanna swim the un-clogged pipe where my poetry stroked and backstroke(d) diving unhinged and unapologetic into the minds of those who dared to read my nakedness.
Take me to a time where I cared so much about not caring what you thought of my broken silence, where my words were unashamed and fiercely present.
I miss the intimate sharing
the mind sharpening
The exposing of souls through more than ”just words”.
Take me back.
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