Some Kind of Poetry

I’m in a certain place. And maybe I’m alone in the middle of this empty room, or maybe its just that for once I have room to breathe and now that it’s empty I can hear each inhale and exhale and feel my chest expanding.

Either way, I’m here, and I don’t hate it, and I’m even willing to embrace the circumstance and not just because there is nothing else to wrap my arms around.

I see the others and I smile because its good, there is no mourning for what isn’t mine. Its floating and its music and its silence and I’m free. It allows for thoughts and things and strings of words and dreams to curl like smoke into the atmosphere.

I am a little bottle in the middle of the vast cold floor and I’m compact and small, and when you finally curl your fingers around and bring me to your lips, we will change and swell and grow too large for the space to contain us.

(written May 6th, 2010)

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