Tuesday, September 4, 2012

White Fence

While running my fingers along the weathered pickets of a domestic boundary, 
a rush of tingling emotion surges to my chest, 
circulating up to my throat, blocked in a lump sum, 
as if it were a physical form trying to escape.
The creeping stems of unraveled morning glories
frame this well-written home.
Caught, far from present, in a love frozen stare, 
I finally come to in a rolling dense fog.
A chilling sense of feeling woolen, monochrome, uneasy. 
My body begins to ache with inactivity. 

Will this fear be cut? 
Soon right away, right away. 

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