It closes in on you sometimes. The invisible weight of this life you are trying to create with only what you have in your possession: your voice, your hands, your storm sky mind. Mostly you ride it out. Fuck around a little but age is a factor now. You have kissed the mouth of the pain, wept and bled for it. You have placed your fingers inside of the wound, curled and disappeared in it. What do you have to show for any of it but more of the same. As I watch the holiday lights flickering on and darkness envelop the quiet city block, I see a few little warped pumpkins left behind on someone’s concrete steps as if forgotten by all but the hungry squirrels. Some adornments are an afterthought. So much decoration encircles the steel frame of the madhouse we’re living in. Last night he had me read poetry for him. Last night it was only the sound of my voice lifting off like smoke high above the rooftops, billowing soft and slow on the wind.
Allison Marie Conway 
Beautiful Hun 💜
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Love the “storm sky mind”. Also, when it is time to move on from the wound? Wonderful write.
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Thank you so very much, VJ. Wounds are mysterious gateways aren’t they…. sometimes they open and then close and then open again, unexpectedly… thank you so much for reading. 🙏🏻🕊🌹
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My pleasure!
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☺️
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👌👌👌✒❣it’s very decent … the way it is … and then it’s disturbed. A calm that makes you nervous❤🌹💖
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It is eerie isn’t it, Mic… the strangeness of a certain kind of quiet. 🙏🏻♥️🕊🌹
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It’s exactly the type of silence in which every sound stands out. And then everything is revealed🎹🩸🤰🛌👂💖💖
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Yes, our instincts are sharpened, our senses become most alert. 🕊🕯🕊
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We call it excitement 😘😘😘
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Yes, we often do. ♥️😘
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and then I have to take a cold shower …😁😁😁 sorry I’m guy 🤭😘
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Thank you beyond, dear Allison. For creating these captivating vignettes that so perfectly capture the angst felt within not only these days but also that so many encounter daily in life. Perhaps hearing you speak out about similar if not same “wonderings” makes it easier to wade through my own. These perfect pairings of written and spoken… they soothe the mind, the soul, and the heart. They provide an opportunity to rest and breathe. Perfect refuge from the every day rat race that life has become. Thank you deeply. Much love. ❤️
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Oh I hope so, sweet Danijel, I hope so with my whole heart. If you can find refuge here that is everything, everything that matters to me. Thank you so humbly for reading, listening, letting my words have you just for a little while. It is an honor and I’m so grateful. Much love in return. 🕊🌹♥️🌹🕊
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❤️❤️❤️
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Your verbal poetry dear Allison, like a bedroom whisper, we need to hear. Amazing words shared.
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That warms my whole heart to hear, dear John. Thank you ever so much. 🙏🏻♥️🌹
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I am glad dear Allison and you are welcome.
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