Beautiful Illness

My mind can’t quite grasp
what yours can.

It mistakens outreached
hands for shadows on
the wall,

your voice asking down
the hall if I fell or simply
broke something.

But if something’s
shattered,

I don’t feel the glass making itself
smaller under my heels.

I don’t want to feel invisible like
square shards I can’t spot between
the cracks.

I don’t crawl away from
my lack of
understanding

but toward.

It ain’t my anamoly but
my norm, warm to
the touch in all

the ways I’ll never be.

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “Beautiful Illness

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s