November 16, 2010 Posted by the writer


i can walk
from your brown eyes
defining how my steps shape
smaller with each supposed forward
movement. as if i’m getting
anywhere. traveling to a place
ahead has been impossible
since you set me back
at first sight in the dark.
i have been practicing
these ways of seeming
bigger. like that’s something
i have faith in. the touch of your skin
against what should be
comforting me during fragility.
see. i break in ways
flexibility has never imagined.
you ask with legitimate curiosity
while my waste circles
round ways. to explain
this apparent guilt is impossible
requesting. a view of mutual
understanding. sickness carried
over wishing whatever it’s from
could be different. might change
patterns of self. destruction
always following frantic head shakes.
make me
who you are. that is all
i have ever been
hoping for.

About the writer

gretchen's brain is preoccupied with words.

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