brillo breath

Forgive me

all

for when I step on your words,

for my imagining that I know what you are going to say.

Forgive me for the tight holding

I have done

and keep doing

in uncountable seconds

of my personhood.

She imagines she has something important

to say

(any words in time are flowing water)

and she has a poorly acted way of pretending to know things

from her limited exposure.

Only ever each moment

to release into this soup of being.

My psychic muscles are tired

of holding self together.

Breath,

thank you,

enters

into the each

last

holding,

of this construct

scrubbing away the clinging.

Tags: breath, Poetry