I think I feel too much.
Sometimes I claw for breath,
my chest in fingers
clutched so tight.
Stomach churns,
flips,
swirls
in tiny rippled waves of questions
like who am I
and what am I
and why I grip your memory
with my own clutching fingers,
raw and open and alive
with remembering.
such beautiful agony always. I do hope you are genuinely happier than your speaker. 🙂
LikeLike
Maybe not genuinely but superficially, at least. Thank you for reading and feeling my words. 🙂
LikeLike
Well yes, I thought that genuine was rather presumptuous on my part, but keep fighting the good fight – your story is so intriguing.
LikeLike
I will do my best. And I’m honored that you find it intriguing. 🙂
LikeLike
be well 🙂
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike