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A Poem by jaime

ever have those days when nothing comes to mind...

A dark porch
with just the candle.
Yet the wind
before the storm
is worth the dark.
I want a struggle
to find keys;
Yet I sit,
watch the cursor flash.
Beetle taps the screen.
Monitor turns black.
Alone in the flicker.
Waiting for a thought
worth a finger tap-
worth a scratch.
And another smoke.
Panic quickens;
I hold my breath
in crossed arms
and zipped lips.
The story remains-
just a pulse-
under my skin.
And I gave up
Before the flame.