My voice has become a barely legible script
careening off the sharp-edged cliff of my cracked lips.
I am unkissable, darling.
I’ve a leak in my head I can’t fix
and each heavy drop is jerk back to reality.
I’m leaving a trail of fuel and waiting
for one massive match to light
and set me ablaze.
The triage nurse wants to elevate my psychosis status.
She wants to twist the knobs at the back of my brain
and soothe the offline error tone that’s seeping
between the drought of my mouth.
I feel similar to a three year old
being taught patience,
“No, you can’t have that yet.”
But I want it. I want it, darling.
I want it back.
© Laura A. Lord, “Unkissable,” 2016
I have been away for some time. Away from my blog…my friends…my writing. I am struggling in the silence right now, so please bear with me.
Thank you to MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie for the wordle prompt. I needed it.