This is the post excerpt.
This is going to be the last storm. The last one.
March is such a crazy month. I get insane, impulsive risky thoughts all month long. I want to run away, become a reclusive mountain woman and knit all day. And nap. And sleep. And read books.
This month is about finding the truth. Or at least beginning the journey.
Maybe I think of these years
As the in- between
Waiting for the end
When we’re together all the time
But let’s not rush that awful climax
I steal deep glances
And memorize lines, crow’s marks
Is that a liver spot on your hand??
And I wonder why I feel so funny
Around you- is that guilt?
Relax, I remind my anxiety
And now I’m wound and can’t sleep
Is she comfortable?
I should go to sleep
And make the most of tomorrow
Relaxation is sitting in a hotel bed, no pants, leaning back against some pillows and knitting.
Too rough around the edges
Said the slingshot to the rodeo