Four Lines

Get the tools

Hand me the wood.

Stand right there,

And be still.

Create.


Feel the air

Clutch your arms.

Breathe in the smell,

Now light it up.

Remember – Goodbye.


Make sure its sharp.

Make sure it fits.

Let your thoughts flow,

While the mind goes on to wander.

Write.


Rough edges peel,

Your touch on it tenses.

Eyes dart to different sides;

The physicality of life’s story.

Book.


Sweaty palms.

A quickly beating heart.

You pace around.

— Is there a difference at all?

Love – Anxiety.


Close my eyes.

Hold my hand.

Pull me close

And cry me a song.

Death.



 

 

 

 

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