Life insists
on patience
but once I have arrived
at a destination
how can I be content
to wait outside?
My heart falters mid-air
clips the rim of the wastebasket
and falls to the floor
with an unsettling squelch.
She will leave a stain no doubt.
But isn’t that what we all want
to leave something behind
when we are gone
and haven’t the impulse
to make anything new?
I watch her sputter and turn.
Everything hurts,
your absence,
my disenfranchised life,
even the crescents
at the ends of my fingertips
from scraping so long
at the same intractable walls.
I am afraid of my life,
afraid of my heart
because even on the outside
she has a knack for drawing me in.
The butterflies in my stomach
are made of wire.
They jab and tangle.
They perforate my insides
whenever they spread
their amature wings.
I don’t want to die
voluntarily incarcerated.
I don’t want to go
another moment
without knowing you.
The road between us
has yet to intersect but still
I love knowing that you are out there
savoring and scavenging
under the same mutable vault as I.
mindlovemisery 
I love reading the title as “moo table.” As if we’re all just cows, come to the same “table” to “chew the cud.” 🙂
I love this part:
“even the crescents
at the ends of my fingertips
from scraping so long
at the same intractable walls.”
Also these:
“The butterflies in my stomach
are made of wire.
They jab and tangle.
They perforate my insides”
What you did with that line break after “spread” was very clever, drawing all the meaning out of the word that you possibly could.
“I don’t want to die
voluntarily incarcerated.”
Come to think of it, I guess the title could also be “mood able.”
That is a cute image about the dining cows lol
Thank you for all your kind words! Moodable would work too ha
Reblogged this on Everyday Strange and commented:
I love this poem posted at Mind Love Misery, and the accompanying image is gorgeous.