I wish I could peel up the floorboards and lie beneath them. There I could hide in still silence, but it still wouldn't be completely silent because I cannot leave my mind behind. I couldn't tell you what I'm thinking* even if i wanted to. I thought that I had words for everything, that I could always find refuge in my ability to arrange letters into feeling. I can't. This emotion is a lightning bolt and I am a bare tree alone in a barren field.
-m.k.
*what's the difference between thinking and feeling? how do you know if it's coming from your head or your heart?
YOU ARE READING
anthology
Poetry"human beings are works in progress who mistakenly think they're finished" © taekth 2016
