How Real

I think too much some nights.
When the gospel hymns of Colorado plains don’t quite lull me to sleep.
I’ll find myself thinking into holes.
Looping back to days where we all thought less.
I’ll find myself feeling, those stitches you left below my ribs where I laughed my lungs to pieces and
now I think You left a debt on my skin
The kind that taught to me to keep walking on
Now there’s nothing but bruises. The kind tattooed on my knees
Ones I got from knocking into the piles of memories we left in the darkness.
I think about when you stitched my palms together cuz I’ve learned never to fight with my fists when I could fight with my words.
And it’s got me thinking?
Maybe you stitched my knees together so that they could never buckle.
And it’s got me believing.
I made a huge mistake by walking on and it’s got me tearing the stitches from all the warm places we closed up long ago.
Everything will change and I’m starting to feel it grow taut
Ready to pull.
And that’s it.
Now All this thinkings' split my stitches
And every time I tried to write it all down I could only scribe in cursive
The connection of my letters in loops and holes has your name rollercoastering through the swirls and twists of my l’s and that sweet wisp at the end of my sentence…well yah that’s got me thinking.
Thinking we stitched up all the memories to make room for the good stuff cuz there’s a lotta good stuff coming my way.
Hold the needle
I got the string-stitch me together to keep me from bleeding
All the cursive memories that turned into believing.
And one day…
When the traffic slows and the city lights glow low
I will come to you.
With a blanket sewn from my stitches in hopes of keeping the good around your shoulders.