A spotless space

I have a place to myself,
where I die each day,
a cup of stale titter that
Diffuse my self worth in the corners.

I eat berries and walnuts.
Watching a ductile sunrise,
Slapping fingers of orange rust on my hip.
I see the magic growing.

It is afternoon,
I see thunder & stars simultaneously.
The wispy steps, smiling & morphing.

I have spot to cry to myself,
Winter tangerine,
A spot where my flat heart attaches to a thing,
Motionless,
Body apart.

The others move to and fro,
Catching nothing but a gasp of air.
I stare at the blue ocean,
Weeds growing,
Stories knitting,
I stare at this spot of mine.

26 Comments

  1. This poem really reached out to me. There is such a deep sadness here that it kind of reminded me of Billie Eilish. And while I sensed the sadness in the song, it also made me think of the special place. Great work!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wonderful imagery!!!! Especially your second stanza.

    ”I eat berries and walnuts.
    Watching a ductile sunrise,
    Slapping fingers of orange rust on my hip.
    I see the magic growing.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This reminds me so much of the process of unbecoming then becoming, the process that takes so much of our time that it’s a reflection of life itself at the end of the day. Your poetry is life!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. There is so much of introspection in this poem. How we attach ourselves to a place, to a spot in time. How our hearts linger to be associated with that spot..where happiness and sadness grow in equal proportion. We ll need such a place, a spot, a home.

    Like

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