sometimes

sometimes

the silences under words

overwhelm me, and I forget

what I wanted to say.

 

sometimes,

frustrated,

I stand in the kitchen, bewildered,

dripping dish towel in one hand

kettle in the other,

knowing only I forgot

what I came here to forget.

 

sometimes

no matter what words I write,

I can’t write anything

until I get to the kitchen again

and remember what to write.IMG_0972

(but I remember why I’m there, this time,

so can’t leave.)

 

sometimes

words are meaningless for all their meaning,

and I am left holding silence

wondering

what I forgot.

 

sometimes

that’s good.

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