Other Days
Confidence is such a fleeting thing, one moment you have it held in your hands and the next its squeezing through your fingers like putty. I crawl on my hands and knees most days searching for it, weaving my hands though the granular pieces of sand cutting my fingers on invisible shards of insecurity . Most days I won't look past my jaw line , eyes trained not go past the boarder, red flags and guns raised saying if you look past this point there will only be hurt. There are days where I fill my head with thoughts so elaborate, running with tunnels and twists I cannot get out of. I’m lost in my own labyrinth not certain I want to leave. Other days tones of grays and black wash over with hatred and disgust. Hues of blue give a flicker of color leading to thoughts I dare not speak out loud afraid if I voice them I won’t will be able to take them back, keep them locked in the places I only dare go on my darkest days. I will lead my miss guided ghosts back to their promise land seeking out the light only few have glimpsed. Conquering demons that lay wake in the deepest regions of my mind. I will learn to love this body by crossing lines that are only drawn in sand.
Copyright © Lisette Nichols | Year Posted 2016
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