Oh, I wish
that she never asked:
"What is it
that keeps you
so tethered?"

I said,
"I don't know."

Behind the screen
where she talks,
there's a butterfly on the deck.

"Can you describe the feeling?”
It isn’t grand.
It’s precise.
I feel it,
and I’m serene
like a steady pulse,
only to be
unexpectedly activated.
Where you know
if you stayed there,
it would start to hurt.
But in the nicest way.

"Why is it special?"
The sky is shifting into
dark shades of steel blue,
contrasting beautifully against
a veil of Altocumulus clouds.
I think of a particularness
I can't even write.
The dialogue is unpredictable.
Detached but sharp.
Cloaked in humor,
sometimes deliberately plain.

Always trying
trying
trying
to keep emotion from seeping in.

_{^{(Daily Writing 053)}}