#0048

You say it's not you;
It's me with whom the blame rests
For every word spoken out of place.
Who knew that your words
Could sliver across the page
Causing rain on my cheeks?
A grievance that I did not suspect-
A snake coiling, ready to spring
Grabbing the neck of the prey
And shaking.
Shaking;
My hands.
The dancing butterflies in my stomach
Are dull, grey moths
Adding weight to my stride
So my head hangs low.
In this dismal world I lose my place
And look for answers in the sky.
All I see as I gaze heavenward is blackness
Reaching down to consume the earth...
Yet as I look further into the depths
I see sparklings of light-
The beginnings of hope-
Leading me into the future
Reminding me of my place.
As you settle back to gather more venom
Ready to spring once more
I retreat into the stars
And heed their wisdom.