when did I forget
to taste rain?
to feel my mortality
even in paper cuts?
and when did I forget
could cut like a shattered vase
when did I cease to marvel
at every word
exploding on my tongue
bold, exotic, and brash?
when did every sound and rhythm
cease to leave me undone?
cease to over-fill my arms with questions unasked?
and why did I run from this thrill?
why did I hide from this blinding light of truth
expressed in words that jump and grab our throats
(whether to kiss or strangle us we know not)
(whether or not they tear apart or build)
I stick out my tongue and beg the sky for a downpour!
I dig through verses and fill my arms again.