notebook

 where i run to for comfort. 

where i turn to on long, late, 
nights alone. 
this blank, but now full page. 
release me from this cage.
renew me of this stench. 
clean me of this residue. 
take the tar
from my lungs
fill it with every essence of this woman. 
write it here. 
let it out.
pour it down.
drink the sound.
swallow the ground. 
sinking into her. 
This Woman. 
She becomes my canvas. 
She becomes my blank page. 
… I write of her, for days… and days.
where i run to for safety.
where i turn to on silent, cold, slow nights.
this blanket. this softness.
breaks the locks on this cage.
bathes me new again. 
clears the smoke
from my lungs.
fills it with every inch of her being. 
This Woman. 
I’ve sculpted her a thousand… a million times..
and I could do it again and again…
dumb, deaf, or blind.
up her walls… with no legs at all…
I climb, climb, climb…
Catch me Love!!!
I have fallen!