tuesday 07.09

I sit and rock back and forth and sometimes back again in a chair that no longer exists, however; the rocking continues and my vision becomes blurred as a drop of sweat makes it's way from my forehead past my brow.

When the knot in my throat makes me quiver and sometimes shake, my once firm hand is there to catch the now falling tear. Sometimes I miss the tear and the taste touches my lips that are locked in silence.