worn out weather.

We struggle to grow from soils sown with glances in other directions,

our hands bound by ropes,

lovingly tied by whichever parent we choose to resent.

I have never wanted more than what was offered.

Like putting your hands in your coat pockets

to avoid putting them in my mouth

and getting a good grasp on what I'm saying.

Sorry so sudden, sorry so soon.

Reviews

[Elizabeth]

Third line... what a kick in the gut. The image of a rope binding albeit lovingly tied is fantastic. Again, I am left wondering if I really walked away understanding your intent. But the piece is haunting...