Why was she crying over the kitchen sink
With that bottle in her hand
You can empty that bottle, sweetheart
But you’ll never empty your mind
I want to empty it all
It’s never enough
Through the faucet
Dripping, as always
Strange, yes, I know
Sometimes I think in poems
I want to tear all the words down
And make the letters dance
Off of the page
Out of this computer screen
Into the heart of a person
Who may or may not understand
Writers write for themselves
No matter what they say
It is selfish
But it is also therapeutic
That is one way
Writing differs from suicide
Share:
“Off of the page
Out of this computer screen
Into the heart of a person
Who may or may not understand”
Deep.
A powerful ending as well.
Tfs, friend.
Oh please, you’re making me blush. Thank you very much.