Dreams & Delusions…

I Can’t Stop

She has a gift for putting into words emotions that I have only felt and have such a hard time expressing. This is why I love art.



I say that I can’t stop,
that some ineffable force
drives me
to look for you,
write to you,
remember you.

I claim that I can’t help it.

I can’t help
the incessantness
of it all,
like I have the inability
to forget.

And that’s true.

Sort of.

I try to convince myself
it’s unavoidable,
but, really,
it’s because
I don’t want to stop.

I love the way
these words feel
on my fingers,
the way they walk
from my hands,
and plant gardens
on the page,
the way they bleed
from my veins
and scorch
the eyes
and ears
and hearts
of the world.

I want to see your face,
take sneak peeks
into your world.
I want to watch you play,
hear the melody alighting
from your hands.

I want to see you,
but no one is forcing me.
There is no gun or knife
encouraging me to…

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