the words are trapped inside me.
they wrestle with one another, jumbled in my mind, but never seem to fall together anymore into sentences.
into complete thoughts.
perhaps it is because I just keep going, and don’t sit, waiting for them to blossom into the beauty I know that they can be. to soon, I try to pluck them from the mess and make something of them.
I am not a patient person, and waiting on something like this, something that should be so simple, is hard.
so many things to share, to make permanent in this space, and they flit through my mind like butterflies. dancing on the breeze, bouncing from flower to flower, and then?
I am unsettled. lost in my thoughts, lost in the spaces I call my own. part of me wonders if I can make them pretty again, if the beauty can be restored. part of me is convinced it is to late. part of me laughs at myself, thinking about how it is just one more thing I will have left unfinished.
I counterbalance the lack of patience with an overabundance of stubborn. I know that this? this jumbled mess that I’m buried in? it will pass. there is far to much stubborn in me to sit and take it for very much longer.
but until it does, I shall watch the butterflies.