Friday, January 2, 2015

Poetry Attempt 2

Often I am an open wound
Hypersensitive, overstimulated
The air hurts

The bandaid that is easy
doesn't let me heal
It is a placebo
with terrible side effects

I drive in my cocoon
- Not to mix metaphors -
fingers frozen on the wheel
I'm unaware of how tense I am

Suddenly a man on a motorcycle
swerves in front of my car
bobbing and weaving
to music only he can hear

I smile and am flooded with humanity

When did I become the old woman
afraid to leave the house?
What kills me is that I can't remember
is this new me or have I always been like

Watching people with easy smiles
I study them for clues.

1 comment:

baili said...

life has its changing shapes aity nd turns and we have to accept the reality no mat