When I Write

*

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

*

his eyes crawl up my back

probing, asking, pulling

I am pinioned by want

tacked–a common insect

stuck through the thorax

*

all that is, I am

*

driven further inside

by this ever-present audience

avoiding the vacant stare

keeping my eyes on the screen

*

through me, for me, as me

*

a kind heart beats

while a mind fades

eyes watch what moves

he asks for little

he needs so much

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