One Deep Breath

The world is on tip toes, sneaking around
my shoulders and never quite settling in. Heavy
and allegoric; forgetting its rotational responsibilities–
standing still in moments when it should be
spinning.

In an instant I become a flood–pure
blue and insistent upon destruction;
metaphorical in my downpour as I create
a bounty of elements you are powerless
against.

As temperamental as autumn, alluring to
all your senses and drenching you with
unforeseen sleet when you expected sun—
a soft sell of pressure that can barely impact
surface.

There isn’t a word that will suffice. All sentences
are unqualified; a string of whispers that should
be shouts; an ornate assembly of paragraphs
trying to say something simple; an indifferent
applause.

I am grief stricken for the magical; somberly
requesting the hysterical. I can’t remember the
extraordinary in moments and in others, feel
nothing but peculiar, spellbound, fascinated,
Broken.

Things are becoming too literal. The symbols
hard to find, the figurative language stuck
at the back of my throat. I can’t write you into
a poem they way time has written you into
my skin.

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