in the morning my waterfall falls…

how is that on my day off
I wake up and not want to write
is it apathy, indifference 
maybe just uninspired
my muse sleeping
my love tucked away
my passion idle
I feel the neglect in my gut
as if I could abandon my pen
crawl back into old skin
put on that old facade of
Kansas plain
lackluster pallor 
winter pale
even christmas
seems determined dull
my mind was bended yesterday
full of contemplation 
my body too
desire aching 
evidence of scented sensuality 
and an obedience satisfied
pleasing to someone
to me
the sun is coloring me
changing the dark shadowed walls
of my grey room
warming up hope
for today
I know I will love
do love 
it spreads across these pages
these little 
scripted confessions
and poetry
of times & places
of people & secrets 
I love my vulnerability
it feels like 
I could type out the remains
of all my shards
my mosaic
ever progressing 
I don’t want to finish it in this life
Let me come back again
again & again
again a thousand times
carrying midnight & dawn
so he finds me
intimate in his solitude
whispered in his darkness
lovely in the newness
of  every spectrum of light
…and as I begin to flow 
let loose my waterfall
my layers are opening 
and how my voice
my words
my pen
are found again
never can they
lay empty 
long

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17 thoughts on “in the morning my waterfall falls…

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