Requires me to first open my mouth.
What if I didn’t ask for it?
No, I didn’t open my mouth.
If nothing comes in,
Nothing should come out?
But something got
in a fraying soul
Transforming it into
cold-doused in more words.
Just words, they could be something,
But, they’re just marks on a page.
No matter how they are scratched in,
They are fleeting still.
Crumple it up, those words.
Breeding aches, they
find a way in,
But never get out.
Get out, get out.
Somehow, I didn’t swallow
but yet evidence shows,
my soul is clamped shut.
The only space left got
I found “fraying” to be an intriguing adjective. Thank you for that!
I hope you wouldn’t mind if I add something here but I was reading Coleridge last night – “Hymn Before Sunrise in the Vale of Chamouni” – and he also used an intriguing modifier for soul, that I thought you might enjoy:
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought,
Yea, with my life and life’s own secret joy:
Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused,
Into the mighty vision passing—there
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven!
Dear Lee, I always so enjoy the dialogue of poets you bring onto my blog. Please keep commenting! “Dilating soul” is uniquely expressive and beautiful. I hope you and Maryanne are well – I hope to come visit this month sometime!