Tonight is a poetry kind of night.
Not the rhyming kind or the balanced kind—
the free kind.
Not the rhyming kind or the balanced kind—
the free kind.
Tonight is a lonely kind of night.
The kind that can only be healed
by writing it out and letting God
fill the holes in my poor, beating heart.
The kind that can only be healed
by writing it out and letting God
fill the holes in my poor, beating heart.
Tonight is a sharp kind of night,
shattered windows and emotions as high as
the mama bird right outside my bedroom can fly.
shattered windows and emotions as high as
the mama bird right outside my bedroom can fly.
Tonight is a frantic kind of night.
Like me pulling on my nightshirt backwards
because I was lost in the excitement of
words, words, words—
Like telling my mom, “Hold on, I need to write this poem.”
And once she saw the desperate look in my eyes and heard the strain in my voice,
she left in a rush.
Like me pulling on my nightshirt backwards
because I was lost in the excitement of
words, words, words—
Like telling my mom, “Hold on, I need to write this poem.”
And once she saw the desperate look in my eyes and heard the strain in my voice,
she left in a rush.
Maybe tonight is the
night. The one that has etched in purple pen,
“Hey. I
think I’m back.”
This is beautiful. And I relate so well to that desperate need to write a poem. You've captured that feeling perfectly.
ReplyDeleteSerena | poetree
Thank you, Serena. <3
DeleteYes yes yes to all of this. This is so lovely and so true and i love it.
ReplyDeleteAw, thanks, Abigail. <3
Delete