The blanket (sad dream I can’t remember)

I keep the blanket for comfort, and that’s the problem. I carry it on my hips and shoulders, and it clouds my eyes. The clouds block out the light and I can’t see myself when I’m under it.

I think about it more than I should. It’s a form of control: a battle between letting go, and holding on.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.