leaky faucet

into myself, I empty an entire bottle of honesty,
watch as the tap drips gently and soon oozes
a thick, rich blackness, a darkness I’ve known
too long now, stains the sink and rips
my chest apart. I start writing and do not
stop until the faucet is empty, the room
silent and the bottles stacked to
completion, at which point I cram my latest
works, along with the bottles and black
rags, into myself, the smallest
parts of who I am, and then again
into the drawer, locked,
for safe-keeping.
again, I start writing and let what was said
before be forgotten, what was thought
and hoped for be left to the
dogs, left to the mud trails
and mystery of poetry, left for
somebody else to
find in the gaps
between lines,
left for
you,
left for you.

Reviews

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Seems a depressive poetic tale of rejection to depression and the aftermath of self esteem lost - poignantly sad, yet creative and interesting write! Smiles sent to light a candle in your darkness :-)

[Charlotte e.e. Griffiths]

Thank you for your review! I appreciate both the read and the smiles. Keep spreading warmth!