A slow pull into nothing,
They sink away into distant space,
And my arm goes with them
In a straining reach to draw them back.
But my arm only stretches and stretches
Into spaghetti linking shoulder to wrist.
A dream caught by a thread – A poem
I awoke without thought,
Just blank in my head
And a dream still hauntingly
Hung by a thread,
Unravelling a deepening
Hole in my chest.
To beginnings middles and ends – A poem
You say we ended
While still in the middle,
But if it’s over
Wasn’t that the end?
We’re in the middle of our lives
The middle of our growth
The middle of our timeline
In the middle of learning both
Who we are with each other and on our own.
I don’t know who I am yet
How can I ever expect to know who you are?
Lauren Kathleen 