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If i use my eyes, what will i see?

the poetry i write?

disjointed thoughts

and incoherent feelings

strung together

word after word-

my vulnerability

made almost tangible.

i stand alone and naked,

my words accentuating my form-

my form belying my self,

my self in hiding

being dragged out and showcased...

shivering.

the draft reaches my fingers,

it touches my nose and toes

and i try not to choke but

i talk fast, and the faster i talk

themoreihidebecauseitsthelessyoulisten and

you will leave me in peace

to choke on my hurt.

without which i cannot write,

without which you have no peace