What I’m listening to: Don Chaffer’s You Were at the Time for Love
coffee and daylight obscure my senses as the sun goes down
my eyes travel across pages with words i do not want to face
i want to be put away
where no one is bothered by me
where the corner of a room is my haven
and the color black is not of death, but of hiding
is there a difference?
my ears hear the low rumble of trains in the distance and traffic in midtown
the smell of expresso beans and paper reach through
all at once i want to be everywhere and nowhere
to know more life
to be more who i am (or who i should be)
am i enough?
but my shame overtakes my heart
i wear the black sweater of fear
the back of the room welcomes me
the whispers in my ear…
you are meant for more than this
i have no faith in me
but i do
the walls of self-protection weaken
but may i still wear black?