i too am in need of music,
gentle and pure pouring over my fretful fumbling fingertips.
i am in need of freedom from fearful nights and damp days.
i am breathing smoke thick with longing,
inhaling deep, feeling wearing, wary, worn, weak.
it's been going on for weeks.
too tired, trembling, timid to step up and say stop.
i am no braveheart, only a cowardly lion.
i wait with no great certainty that i am not just stalling.
1 comment:
i love inhaling thick smoke with you and longing for what we only tell in secret
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