The Art of Loving

I've Seen It

Die On This Hill

I found a feeling on the floor again
tried to keep it, but it slipped right through
the carpet’s got ghosts in it
they hum along when I don’t know what else to do

everything in this room knows my name by now
the lamp, the cracked mug, the window that sticks
they listen better than I do
when my heart starts talking in riddles again

I don’t know where to put all this:
it’s too loud for my head,
too soft for my mouth,
too heavy for my hands.

sometimes I write it down
but it doesn’t stay true,
just turns into paper ghosts
that haunt the desk
until I tear them up and start again.

someone said it’s good to feel things
but I think they meant smaller things
like rain, or dogs, or sunsets-
not everything at once.

I don’t know where these feelings belong
maybe nowhere.
maybe here,
with me,
for now.

Everything At Once

Clastonique

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