I struggle getting down with what’s raw and naked in my soul.
I speak the life I’m wanting to inhabit.
But so often those words only live on edges.
At the end of finger tips.
In the bottom of glasses.
Like a day dream.
Of skinny dips.
Never knowing it’s real,
wet,
wild,
freedom.
I say words in hopes to convince.
Transform.
Something.
Anything.
Hopefully everything, that clings to the comfortable.
Clings to the contained.
