Explosion have begun. Tempers flare. Rising temperatures. Finding no way to breathe. Once again fighting tears that somehow find their way. Wipe the slate clean. Make it all brand new. Words are weapons that can be destroyed. Actions make it all real. How much is said can stab a heart, slice a finger, or just poke confidence. Such a moment of peace begs to be known and found. Hyperventilation is only a tool to make it through. A foot taps. A swallow persists. Care slides away. Too many days to count that this nightmare sees itself again and again. So many screams. Blood curdles with a stab at the back of the throat. Shivers down the spine only hint at the possibilities that may happen next time. My eyes tired of all of the moisture they contain. Must concentrate. Must remember. Must believe. Must understand. Tomorrow is a different day.
Letters to Myself and Other Invisibles
Home of Gaydar Gone Wrong
Letters to Myself and Other Invisibles 