Release

A poem by Julia R. DeStefano

Photo by Shoaib SR on Unsplash

Release

Every morning,

I break and put myself back together again

with the raining of my heart as the backdrop.

My mind supplies the thunder.

A flash of lightning.

Quick bursts of trembling thought.

The shattering of a porcelain doll,

pieces strewn into the menacing ether.

But if my desire is still dedicated to desire,

can I call myself happy?

If I haven’t lost the taste

for your lips against mine,

fingertips on my hips,

can I call myself alive?

If I would still like to know

the feel of you rolling over in bed,

can I consider myself undefeated?

Come nightfall,

I will choose hope like clockwork.

I like the sound of it

churning in my chest.

© Julia R. DeStefano