Bump and Twined

8. Console Me

Console Me (Photo credit: That One Chick Mary)

Sometimes space,
that area surrounding your body,
seems to shift and crowd
your bumpy head,
your skinned shins, and
those hands best kept to yourself.

And, because we collide with these
nomadic bits of fractious flotsam
and nocturnal predatory furniture,
these boundaries of palpability,
you can end up hurting your
outer self.

That’s the difference between
outside space and inside space.
When we hurt inside already,
we barricade things around our minds and
virtual hearts, surrounding ourselves
with dragon-teeth redoubts of solitary dark.

Often, I think the best cure for cracking
that shrouded and buried space within
is to enclose it in something soft without,
maybe like the arms of someone
whose heart and mind are open, too…
Or, with the right entwining, will be.

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6 thoughts on “Bump and Twined

  1. My Aunt Violet (a wonderful woman) is fond of saying, “Ain’t no place better to be than on the inside of a hug.” I think she would find the beauty and truth in your poem. Like I did.

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