trapped outside the prison gates

dark grey clouds outside,
a hint of rain in the air,
my bones can feel it.
I am so
tired,
in a way that no sleep can mend.
tired of worrying
about a future I cannot control
or predict.
I would like to feel important,
I would really like to feel unique.
As if there aren’t millions exactly
like me, as if I’m not
replaceable in every respect. As if
it wasn’t certain beyond doubt
that history would unfold
in exactly the same way
whether I existed
or not.
I see you, suddenly,
and take a quick, short, breath

as you move in closer) your scent surrounds me,
earth, rain, and skin.
your lips, damaged but soft, burn
against mine.
my heart pounds harder and faster,
then it audibly skips a beat.
I close my eyes
and slowly let
this
world
fade (you move away,

back to your work.
the rain trickles down the window.
my coffee is just a hint colder.
my screen stares back at me,
no single extra word written in my
Project Description.
I’m really not good at this
grant-proposals-business. is it
time for a change, a different job maybe?
Am I too old for change? Too
irrelevant?

______

a tribute to e. e. cummings

trapped outside the prison gates by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License