Crawl Space
A poem of holding on while letting go
I am renting a room
In the tiny, southwest corner of your heart
A crawl space turned cavernous is what it seemed
Upon closer inspection
The walls are scattered lines
In need of surfacing
In need of cleaning
I grab my things and get to work
Among the hidden spaces
My blood erases
Where rain beats against the windowpanes
And I stay up keeping watch
Until you're comfortable
And undeniably pristine
The ventricle where my head listens to your chest echoing against the walls
I put down the food I'm eating
Pull back curtains in early evening
The soul revealing
A stained piece of glass
Like the window of a tall apartment
Or the periscope on a falling star
Your reflection
My invention
Climbing stairs in search of photographs
In luck
In love
In decadence
I sit up in bed, dangle my legs and start the day
I can either wake you or let you rest
About the Creator
Sawyer Phillips
Singer-songwriter recovering from an injury. *Now pursuing a career in creative writing* Black coffee and late night flights. ☕️✈️✨
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Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Such a beautiful poetry..loved...if you have a moment I'd love for you to check out my latest piece hope you find it relatable..thankyou