We all manage pain in ways that are beyond our control;

In ways that are ours: 

My third rejection letter wakes me in the early morning, 

Before the sunlight hits my face.

I barely read the words that say “not you,”

Then melt into my pillow,

When I wake I call myself a writer 

And pretend I dreamt the entire thing. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: