She carries a bag
Fill me with love
It is see through
Full of junk
Other people’s mistakes
Unwanted
Unknown
She looks happy
With her bounty
I crawl and scratch inside my clothes
She keeps me busy
For a second
Only ever a second
Then the words come again
Fill me up
Not a bounty
Black
Heavy
Sore
I try to sit
To lie
But I cannot find comfort
Maybe I keep it away
Comfort
As if when I find it
I will know what is missing
What has been missing
What is lost
I beg on the pale wooden chair
For the green piece of paper
For the seven lines of ink that makes it stop
For a second
Only ever a second
I get it
Hold it in my hands
I am very good at asking
It is an empty bounty
Not real
Not one that will fill me with love
i try to say i try to say
But the words disappear
Blown off in an empty bag
A laugh
I leave the chair
Thick
Heavy
Take the seven lines of ink
A step
Quietly lock myself
Back inside.
