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by Leisa Pierce |
| Fallibility A small piece of white lint rises with no wind to carry it; support its fallibility. I let the words dance in my head; try hard to erase them all and just before falling off the edge, I pick up pen and paper; give in. Inside, I lie in shreds, torn spirit. Unshakeable strength crushed. I've nothing to gain, nothing to share. All the words leave me as I pretend a smile to keep me through the wake; pretend I can't feel while silently I die. the symmetry of leaves i put on his leather jacket and faced the cold to inhale my nicotine deep and hard. hoping to last me. holding my head with a crooked smile, i'm taking in the water, the water. i must be toxic. the water, he said take lots..and lots..and i am. i noticed out there on the cold balcony i felt like myself again - the self that stays up all nite writing. maybe this is working after one dose. but the imagery the reflection on the ceiling the full moon lit the leaves from the large tree outside the balcony next to where i have sat so many times and on the ceiling the perfect symmetry of leaves and light. illuminating my way thru the smoke
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