Friday, April 10, 2015

national poetry writing month // four30.

every person has a sacred place,
a church, or a mosque, or a bench in a park.
some place that they go to to be alone,
to confront life's difficulties.
my place, where i heave tears into my lap,
is the solitude of the drivers seat of my car.
it has heard the struggle for breath,
as i sobbed through my heartbreak.
responded with silence,
as the whys, and the whys, and the whys,
fell over and over again.

No comments: