Falling

by

Candi Timmerman

I fall daily. This girl - this woman - pulls me into myself and into her. Or perhaps out of myself.
If I continue with this gravity, is it possible I will lose the essence of me? I am sure of so very little any more.
Once, what seems like a lifetime ago, I pulled dandelions from the ground and called them daisies. I smokes cloves and called them Heaven - I kissed boys and called it love.
I don't know that I've ever held a real daisy - I'm puffing on a Marlboro light, and I'm in love with a woman.
Was this change always inside me or did the sum of my life put me into this stranger's body? Music doesn't even fill me any more and I am only home in her arms.
Where did this insatiable appetite come from? Why am I only hungry for more and never satisfied?
I once knew a boy from Oklahoma who thought he was a man poet. He poured his words through me like a sieve and I filtered out the shit. He never loved, but he knew how to pretend. So I got left holding a handful of leftovers and he took the best of me. What is left for her?

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Untitled
by: Inkie Cambelle
from: Kansas City, MO, US

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