My pillow says I hug it too tight,
But I squeeze till it’s white,
It says I project,
But I reject that assumption,
Easy to say,
If you’re a pillow and lay
there with someone to hold you.
Medicine of every kind,
To heal, fix, and meld,
So when will they make a pill,
To make me feel I’m being held?
I sense it could shatter,
In a million shards,
It sometimes feels,
Like a house of cards,
And in those moments,
I hold my breath.
Sometimes the winds stop and my sails fall, then
All I’m left with is the quiet and dark,
No mark of my horizon can I see,
Just me, in this moment drifting alone,
My own compass not able now to guide,
Beside me, loneliness I thought at bay,
Today, it shows its final hand’s not played,
Afraid I might remain out here afloat,
My throat constricts, my hope it does rescind,
In my boat, I can only wait for wind.