my mind is cavernous
some caves have bright light behind a thin curtain, those you may enter.
those are good memories.
memories of my mom caring for my brother and I
memories of my dad wanting to spend time with me
memories of my brother and I creating games out of imagination
games we could never remember the rules to
but there are other caverns,
caverns of darkness concealed by boulders blockaded by two by fours meant to keep you out.
those are bad memories.
memories I cannot let you delve into.
not until I'm ready to open them.
YOU ARE READING
wilting
Poetryjust a couple poems I started working on, figured I might as well let you know I'm not dead and I do still exist
