Soak

“So how do you feel about it?”

I see that look,

Lost.

I see your face,

Frost.

Daze.

Working on how to say things are

Hazy in a way that’s believable

And won’t be misconstrued as lazy.

So just to stop the questioning you show the beads

From the mist you’ve been walking in

That sit on your skin and sound like

“Tired.”

“Okay.”

“Fine. Fine.”

But those were just the

Words that particularized

And don’t explain

Where they came from –

A fog.

How could you explain that place?

Or what it means?

You shouldn’t have to,

But you don’t want to be misunderstood.

You realized long ago

People don’t want to hear

“I don’t know.”

They don’t want to be confused,

And be in your haze too.

And that’s just like you,

To tell them what they want to hear,

Even though it makes you feel more alone.

I hope you stop that.

I hope that instead,

you begin to walk through low clouds

With wool clothing, not worried about wording,

Just soaking, just breathing.

And when the clouds are gone

You can wring out all the words into buckets of pages

That say where you were.

And we can drink the cold

To try and digest what you’ve been through.

And we can love you.

And you can love you.

So for now here are coats,

Your friends’ shoulders,

For the words that are still water

To spill,

And you can pour this into words when

You know what it all means,

Should you choose to.