Until we meet, you will wonder what you could be waiting for, and too stubborn to stop, I will keep running until we C R A S H—
While her bubblegum insurance expired in the stiff, blue-and-white checked waiting room, ankles crossed, she sees life in sepia.
Diving into you through that hole called the pupil while your glasses make bounce-bounce-bounce so suddenly we are tangled and we see—
She’s starting to fade into the ground, with hands clasped, fingers intertwined, struggling a prayer you won’t let the earth claim her just yet.
I think maybe I was so hungry for love I convinced myself you would care if I had leapt or fell— that you might run to catch me.
If there is a god who can seek out the sorrow in my soul, who can snuff out the fierce aching, I ask why they have not done so.
Not now, maybe not even soon, but I think that maybe, just maybe things will be— things will be, and survival may bring you joy.
Really neat and I luv your pieces. The Tanka form carries and delivers such unique personality and flavor. I'm gonna give'm a spin. Happiness!
Love each and every one of these. I’ll have to try this type of writing myself at some point, thank you for the inspiration