The Best Worst Day
The truth of serendipity is that it is a moment stuffed with straw and angled mirrors to catch the light
Just right.
The tightest grip so casually around my neck breathing “perhaps”
careless disrepair,
against me,
leaning,
pressing like thin air.
My space broken; an uncomfortable bus jostling and bumping as I feign an indifference and gaze long away.
But my soul twists and the mind makes those sounds like lambs behind the gate.
Again?
Again…goddammit.
gratefully again.
Tremble inside; you have almost found me after all my expert hiding. Counting to 100, children with closed eyes against a tree.
Breath short, hand over mouth…you can’t find me.
Not again.
There is a longing winter within, longer every season.
Hoping more earnestly for spring but I know that is not the…
Deep gulp, bitter air, every memory is Astaire
dancing upon my reason.
Turning, red wheel in motion.
Greeted by vacancy.
About the Creator
Mark R. Cieslak
Trying to tell some of the silly stories that crowd my head. Maybe you like one. If not its still cheaper than therapy.
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