What they are not
January 6, 2014 § Leave a comment
The eyes of another
on my words,
is paralyzing.
It freezes my hand,
misshapens my words, bends
each letter over the next,
until numbness is scrawled.
Eyes and heads and noses,
they squint and wink and shake and snub,
and hands
grab
controlling my pen,
even
straining, to see if ink spills
in beautiful puddles.
Are my words
enough.
They are
to me
but what if not
to you.
Such a silly thing, the fear of words,
not being
enough
or being
too much
being taken
not for what they are
but for what they are
not.
rosepoems 
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