Twisted Strings

A trap wide open but sounds meekly comes out,

Jittering somatic sensations without stop

Coffee breath finding a way to you, a route

Exchanging two cents of gossip. Without a doubt,

word makes it back to you and, drop,

the door, feelings meekly come out.

Skipping stones, walking lunges, out and about

But eventually a massive statue, a prop

that’s an obstacle to you on the route

At sunrise, sit down muffled in thought

Slowly collecting 2 weeks of morning dewdrops

but see the air bubbles still meekly come out

Moonlight, in my dreams you reach out

But I falter while attempting to reciprocate, plop

I fall in the rabbit hole, an endless route

Today the sky boasts the moon and sun’s clout

A string bounds then together, until chop

Scissors wide open, and memories meekly come out

Hoping the other string finds a way to me, a route

I see

The little boy

Drowning

As he walks

Further in

The ominous lake

Where piranhas

Are swimming

My paint brushes

Stroke shades

Of black against

The canvas

As I see

Him return

5 times a day

To the fog

Could it be

He has found

Happiness

In this illusion

Could it be

If I follow

Him

I too

Will become

Delusional

When the clock

Strikes the time

For him to come

I follow

And into the

Fog

I see a garden

A haven

Of lilies

A scene with

Colors that

My paint palette

Can’t resemble

Looking back

In a toothy

Smile

The little boy

Hands me

New colors

A paint palette

With so much potential