A Touch of Heavy

Sometimes my head seems much too heavy for me to carry.
The overload of wishing and humming those songs that rip you open,
are most times a moment to lengthy to bare.

Indulgence.
Not a viable solution these days.

My shoulders are aged and slumped and I can’t move the weight much longer.
I don’t want to push and shove it no more. I don’t want to shift and replace it again.
Don’t want to excuse or power paint it. Can’t do the “Maybe, it was meant to be,” one more time.
There are only so many sidewalks to leave a shadow on. Only a few choice uncovered corners ,
still detached and forlorn enough to offer a breather.

And I do so need a breather.

There has to a bag or suitcase, some kind of tote, waiting full to bustin’ with my answers. But I don’t see a place wide enough for it to hide. And if that’s the case, then the answer I seek is that I have no answers.
And that needs no sack to lie in.



By: K. Mulroney