Cursor blinks expectantly
accusingly.
Click click click.
Delete!
I scratch at the old wounds
and lost loves.
The tightly shut doors
of childhood memories
are knocked too.
I pry
through little cracks
looking
from a distance
avoiding
the unwanted attention.
The words are easy.
It is that thing
that hides behind the words –
It stares at me
looking me in the eye
prodding me to
take a step ahead.
This is a tease –
a game we play
I hide behind my walls
it lurks at the corners,
I shut my eyes tight,
it screams
at my cowardice.
I call it my strength.
To feel
but not quite enough
it is a tightrope
I walk.
Delete.
The Mrs. Literary 