L.O.L.

Thu, 04/14/2016 - 15:55 -- zfatima

It starts as a sound in your gut.

A breath you suck in so hard the dip between your clavicles deepens.

Then, as your breath goes down,

The sound goes up.

Up.

Up.

Up.

 

Now, it’s in your chest.

Your synapses are giggling---

Waiting---

Absolutely ecstatic.

Your fingertips chill and warm and repeat.

Your shoulders cave in.

Your knees buckle.

And all you can see is white.

 

It’s made it’s way into our throat.

This is where you work your own magic.

Tip your head back.

Crinkle the corners of your eyes.

Spread your arms.

 

Finally, it’s on your lips.

It bubbles out of your mouth and into the world.

This is real sound.

This is music.

Never should anyone be without it.

 

Because in the end---in the very end,

When I see nothing and nothing for as far as my periphery will take me,

And the sun and moon are lone lovers in the sky,

And my shadow is my only friend,

And no one else will be there to soothe my soul,

Or touch me,

Or kiss me,

Or bring anything,

When my throat is dry,

And my arms are twigs,

And all the memories I made in my past life are mere echoes ricocheting through my head,

All I will need to stay sane,

All I would ever have needed to be a person---to be alive---is to laugh.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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