There’s a little hole in the curtain — an observation There are two little holes on the door There are holes in the sockets randomly no pattern There’s a hole on the wall that was left from the watercolour painting that faded Water won’t outlive everything like it should Even in the water there are holes The bubbles we live in We live in little holes We’re full of holes we try to cover With clothes, with plugs that sometimes won’t fit I’ve been seeing a lot of holes lately — what does that mean when juxtaposed to the the little holes in my head One hole is filled with an eye The other is the mouth — it matters most when open and wordless There’s is a hole in the window when I open it It’s an open book that could lead me anywhere but I just stay still until it’s over I shut my mouth and eyes and pray and all the holes disappear But it’s late, I’m tired and I yawn, my open mouth against my control and there are insects everywhere looking for a hole to break into In the frame of time of an involuntary open mouth, I’m just a hole Being observed and thoughts of fixing it
Thank you for reading.
Love,
Adora
You are able to find poetry in the tiniest details, beautiful as usual ❤️
I like this association trip you take us on in your head. Well written, engaging. Great job.