often I find
things to say
that need to be said
before bed
these words are the sandpaper
that smooth off the sharp edges
inside
and when I write them down
they become the piano keys
to play my silent symphony with

as each fingertip taps
each key
my dark music spills forth
catching a zephyr
like a breeze catches smoke
riding it
swirling up into nothing
as it glides apart
freeing me
from it
in the most subtle motion
almost inert
as it finds its escape
between the remarkable possibilities
that surface in its absence

and the pain of sharp edges
floats out of view
as each note takes flight
I might just sleep tonight

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