poetry.

                 untitled, a day in april

                 Once upon a short time ago, I took a trip through my own heart.
                 Vast regions of "I don't know what" met with "I can't see where" in an unconstant uncertainty.
                 My outward pride a bluffing coward; my smooth, cool calm only a thin layer over what it is not.
                 And then, a flicker caught the corner of my eye,

                 A Dream.

                 He was a bit worn, a bit faded, and clearly discouraged.
                 I asked why he was sitting all alone, in the corner of my heart.

                 He said he didn't know.