Aporia

(in progress)

I’ve spent too long listening, convinced that I cannot sing; that I have no voice. I’ve wasted too much time reading the words of others, imagining that they were my own, so that I’ve lost a belonging to the sound of my own thoughts. I sold them, much too cheaply, to the tune of a chromatic scale and a minor key. I’ve been hidden in words strung together for the sake of a rhyme and drowned out by the overtones. I’m far past the need of a good story, deprived of richly colored literature, pacified by fairy tales and desperately trying to believe in happily ever after. Beauty saturated in words, became deciduous where it was once transient. I’ve been misunderstood, like the freedom of being united and the independence of having someone else protect you. We were washed away with the taste of brine that you became accustomed to. The water washed over me and eroded my mind, fragmenting my imagination, dissolving it with the sands. So the best part of me was lost, deep enough to escape the twinkling spears of moonlit thought.

Kate Gubert