Final Rounds

The theatre is small and close and

everyone inhales everyone elses' laughter and tears and

the cheering makes me wonder if we were all friends in another life,

or if we've just become friends because of now.

Because there are people up on stage shouting out their souls

in perfectly timed rhymes and rythms and words that don't exist except in the room they're spoken

 

Saturated in soul-stuff and love and the roar of the crowd,

Words itching under my skin and swelling my tongue

And suddenly my fingernails are too tight and there's nothing left but

To Write

Because there's a feeling all inside me breathing in and in and in and just wanting out

Pulsing to beats new and familiar and warm

And it's all alive.

 

And maybe that's why we were all friends for an hour,

Though we came and left perfect strangers.

Two minds can't see one soul and continue on alone;

We're all alive.

 

 

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