words failing
mind stalling
stuck falling
in between
when silence leaves
and your left questioning
at least in my mind I'm
so certain that I'm not on your mind
just a blimp
a figment of a moment
nothin to hold on to
another dusty jacket
you put up in the attic
which you only visit after something tragic
bubble wrap cuz you're so fragile
need the past to keep you intact
perhaps no more actions could fix this
only time will be the factor
writing chapter after chapter
trying to read the answer
searching through the weaves of what I was when this started
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