You grab the moon, and you make it shine on me

[scribbleomania]

Ok, time to post my emo poetry to my livejournal. As you do.



Crutches propped hoping to
not fall, hoping the struggle
doesn't show.
Scuffs and scrapes cup their feet.

Ranch dressing from a rip-top bag

And that's all I need to
remember how my crutches were
much worse before, and also
much better now.

Still, the gap has a taste,

a place I go everyday
trying to contain
hoping to not fall, not spill out
all over the tables and floors,
or on someone, which is better, but
much harder now.