excerpts from stories i will never write

here is where i rip open my soul / here is where i cry / here is where i spill my heart / and here is where i die

warm.
comfort.
breathe deep; rise and fall.
close.

home.

--10.13.17

I

write

only

because

there is

a voice

within

me that

will not

be still

~~sylvia plath

sometimes i'm afraid of words,

how they hang upon a beat--

knocking in my head at night:

they repeat, repeat, repeat.

sometimes they don't come at all,

their pounding finished, complete

a new word for the silence:

defeat, defeat, defeat.

~~ladymagdalene