poetry by j matthew waters

crawling in my skin

what will become of me
on those dark cold nights
not knowing if I’m
sound asleep
or walking on thin air

the air outside is oh so cold
and the wind
oh the wind she is wicked
knocking on my door
at all hours of the night

there is a fine line
between sublime identities
& newfound realities
the kind you are likely to find
crawling toward the light

november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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2 thoughts on “crawling in my skin

  1. I love this one

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