Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Quicksand

It starts small.
Little mistakes, errors in judgment
Missed opportunities
Disappointed looks that melt the thin veneer
of control in which I've been masking terror.

Changes weigh down
as I trudge forward
keeping my head up
enough to choke on the rain a little.

The trudging slows.
I start to sink.
Until I can't remember how to move anymore
And all I see
are looks of disappointment.

2 comments:

  1. I happen to think you are pretty amazing. Sending some hug virtual hugs . . . squishy ones at that.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I love you. I know that feeling of paralysis. Sending you so much love.

    ReplyDelete