(I found a chaos trying to put something else in order.)
Whilst I was there, I admitted,
My thoughts are unfinished, like maybe they have always been, this time I stop playing pretend, as if I have answers to offer, and connections to make, this time I am drafting, long-awaited meanings, holy hiding places, this time I’m thinking, what if, I don’t know it yet.
People get stuck on me with self-adhesive glue, down my throat and through my gut I can only sit with a version of the truth. I place myself under and in the middle and jumping over a pile of carpets. Knots like words and those unspoken all interwoven for someone to come and read me for hours.
An open wound leaves traces of drops of blood for the next person might have a cloth as clean as white, as a child, I am (so I was told), pat me dry and wipe me warm, I trust hard and I trust all.
Today and every other day I get it wrong.
I know where to find you. And I know how magnets work from my time in high school. Pulling and pushing with clearly drawn rules. Chemistry and not physics. Lovers and not magnets. The wavelengths of our dooms.
And if one day I can’t, and if one day I won’t, it means doubt has won.
what if I pretend,
you left me all the clues.