Trepidation
Trepidation
One second I am watching
Typing.
.
. .
. . .
(blank)
Why did you leave?
.
. .
. . .
(hello)
I feel empty.
My keyboard is humming
stop
Trepidation
I look forward to today
stop
Trepidation
I keep telling myself it’ll get
better.
Once I’m
grown.
Insufferable silence
Leaves the mind derelict of all thoughts
Suspended in motion
Yet time cannot be caught
Reaching—
For something,
For anything,
fingertips grasping at the warmth of a moment
already lost.
(Click. Click. Click.)
The keys whisper secrets I cannot decipher,
a language of absence.
A breath, a blink,
a flicker.
but this time, I catch it.
Hold it
Steady.
stop
(swallow)
Let it settle
Trepidation
Minutes pass
Hours
I forgot to check your
2 New Messages.
I felt, better.
Not whole, not fixed,
but lighter.
Settling in
.
. .
. . .
(say something)
(why do you do this?)
A deep breath.
A stretch of fingers
The weight is still there,
but it shifts,
just enough.
.
. .
. . .
I was just thinking.
(gulp)
(exhale)
For the first time in days,
the air doesn’t feel heavy.
The world
softens.
The static
quiets.
This time,
I let the light in.
Trepidation
I push my chair back,
feet hitting the floor,
real, solid.
Step forward.
The hallway is warm,
bathed in a glow I didn’t notice before.
The clock keeps ticking,
but it no longer mocks me.
A sip of water.
A stretch.
The weight of the day does not crush me.
Not today.
For the first time in a while,
the silence is not so empty.
I take another breath.
And this time,
I don’t hold it in.
Copyright ©
Madeline Wood
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