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Kitchen Table
Another sleepless night spent at the kitchen table,
waiting for morning to come so that I am able to breathe again.
It's flat, like my chest, as I hold my breathing to rest
while the suppressed heart beneath my lungs is trying its best
to repent.
I have failed you, my heart cries.
I failed you, too, I realize.
Review Request (Intensity):
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Review Request (Direction):
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
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Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage:
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Comments
Esker
Sat, 2016-09-24 14:51
we are human
I turn to a higher power when I am most flattened
which happens often
And I sit and hold the ship
the table with maps and knowledge
the safe meal place
where company sits..
Hanging on till daylight
and hope returns
a good poem about
holding on and having
faith when there seems
to be none!
thank U!