the parts


I’ve got all these spaces around the parts that still hurt. They are stitched together with metallic thread. I don’t think about them all too often but sometimes when I am lying in bed alone at night with my eyes closed they start to glow. I can feel them or see them far off in the distance like ships coming home to port. And for a brief moment just the recognizing of them is a relief. I know you. You are familiar to me. But as they get closer the metallic threads tighten and choke and blur the horizon. And I find myself sweating between the sheets because I know the kinds of bends this might bring on.

I think it is a safe thing to say that I am sometimes afraid of the world. I remember when I learned the definition of sublime. It felt so perfect a word to me, a word that moves outside of language and into a state of being. To be in awe, to be in equal parts wonder and fear at the incredibleness of something or someone. I feel lately suspended in a state of sublimity. I am unable to move forward and yet know I cannot stay here. There is a very big world out there.

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