PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

we are all just

a collection of the things we carry

I have a honey-gold rope that ties me to all the places I come to and can’t leave

I have a vanishing trunk full of smoke and shells

I have a sudden urge to kiss you

I have a broom closet trapped in my head

it is where you might find her sometimes

I have a voice that is sometimes the icicle & sometimes the melt

I have a heart still splintering

I have half a coin I have split and spent with you

I have too many heartbeats held in old fraying boxes

I have pockets filled with pieces of us

I have a sound that pounds through the walls like silence

I have the quietest storm of hell in my head

I have all your syllables-

I will mold them till they’re mine

if I come to you on a broken sled

do you think it’s worth it to take me in

if I come to you on broken fingers

will you still call me your greatest success

will you make room for all the things we carry