(no title) still

When I open the box

You are sitting there,

Crouched,

Raggéd.

You peer at me,

Hopeful:

Eyes squinting

Vulnerability plain

As I scan you.

I need to finish you.

But

I don't have time

For you

Today.

And so, I close the lid.

The light recedes

And you stew once more.

I quash the guilt.

I will let you emerge.

Just

Not yet.

Then, I will name you.

***

It's weird the way I feel about the drafts' section on my Vocal account. This is the second time that I have felt the need to express my feelings about seeing all of those stories listed (no title) every time I go into my profile.

The link to the first one is below:

I feel palpable guilt when I leave them and I am not sure why. Sometimes, I toy with deleting them so that they are not sitting there waiting but, if I take the time to read them, I am struck by their potential and can't let them go. But then, another challenge comes along or something outside of my Vocal sphere intervenes and the stories have to patiently wait until I return, who knows when.

So, I decided the best thing to do in the meantime is to dedicate something to them, some writing, a poem. The irony is not lost on me, believe me but I will return to them and writing always makes me feel better. And then, hopefully the universe will let them know that they are not forgotten and are valued in some small way.

***

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