The clinking in my glass reminds me 

Of all that’s been

The honey trickles down my throat

Bringing memories of

The feelings I’ve lost

Buried in another lifetime

Days I thought would be my last

Or the moments I thought I’d never step out of the shower

Curled up in a little ball

Defeated by all I’d seen

Overcome by what I’d heard

Killed by what I’d felt

Yet, here I am

Writing as a pianist would 

Rhythmically to the words 

That need to escape

K. Mitchell

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