Untitled (For Now...)

The sweet smelling sharpie,
That plagues my hand.
The half finished metaphores,
That float in my head.
The rock hard concrete,
Where my feet land.
Those beautiful words,
That were never said.

The blue lamp next to my bed,
Sits motionless as always.
But my heart beats faster than a hummingbird's wings.
My life looking up,
Brighter than the sun's rays.
The words that I write,
Have their own voice, they sing.

The sweet smelling sharpie,
That plagues my hand
Blurs as my palm grows slick.
The half finished metaphores,
That float in my head
Learn to fight for themselves, they kick.
The rock hard concrete,
Where my feet land
Falls out beneath me, I fall.
Those beautiful words,
That were never said
Take form and take care of it all.