I don’t have anything smart to say
yet words keep spilling from my fingertips
it’s not for desire of eloquence goodness knows I am not grammatically correct
yet to stop is given up
so qwerty plays across the page
visitors to my psyche strike conscious attentions
I call them emotions
some call them foolish
others don’t call them at all
anymore they are and I accept
though today the rending of some
leaves me a bit speechless
weary of the tender tearing between my rib bones