watching my boyfriend play djembe

I miss my heart. & often the bird bath with no water.
As if my heart was not the shrivelled leaf
in the centre of our bed. As if my heart was a pebble.
As if, as if

I miss my heart, the hunk of flesh. I pulled from & often
hollow. Often finding yourself
slipping inside silk trees.

I miss my heart for all it was & often the
way it'd tell me
"I am anatomy on the window.
I am the muscles you danced with last night,
I am the shrill laugh nestled in your hair"

Author's Note

this is about how i think depression is going to eat my personality out and there will be nothing left of me. yup. wrote in philsophy class where everyone is a dick.

Reviews

[Steve]

Well, you can at least keep writing! I like how your work has that dreamy quality, flows with a carefree conscience that is really rare and refreshing to see. That last line is awesome, and loved the 'slipping inside silk trees' line, great stuff.

As for the idiots in class... In a few years you'll pity them. Wait till they add you on facebook then laugh/delete/forget in that order.

And for a casual observation you either have a big hand or a small face :)

[Collect-Eye]

when we, as creative individual and collective artists, juxtapose our awesomeness against their crappyness, it makes us look like we could inspire gods...you've portrayed that here..and for that I commend you
where the masses lack rhythm, your characters that swim through these ethers and ignore the illusory waves of mucus all around you and dance to the rhythm your BF may have had to gather the strength to play
but you bounce back and so does he. like hands that grow looser as the song moves forward