I’ve never felt so locked up in my own skin
Pushing and pulling to wear it thin
The chains squeeze tighter
Making my head feel lighter
I’ve borne this burden since you left
Knowing you were all about theft
I couldn’t keep going
Without knowing
There’s a key to my heart
Locked away from the start
There’s a key to my heart
Hidden by all the art.
About the Creator
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First Starlight of Summer
Your whole being is constituted by yearning. You miss the stars but have never seen a fully-realized night sky sparkle to life before your eyes. You write things, funny but short but profound, emulating the archaic cosmos that turns by its own unknowable calculus emulating love in all its celestial glory turning in that same cryptic way, but fully know neither and hardly know both, and it feels disingenuous, so you write about writers. It feels vaguely masturbatory, but it’s funny but short but profound and it impresses the people around you enough, so you run with it forever until you can’t anymore.
By Steven Christopher McKnight4 days ago in Fiction
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