I haven't written poetry since the release of my book. So I wrote a poem explaining why.
oh, what a petrifying thought,
to think that my words will go unnoticed.
i want to sing my sonnets
to the sun and the moon
i want to howl my hyperboles
from every habitat, north and south
but it is so cozy over here in the silence.
i wish i could say i was a wild womyn
running with the wolves,
but i am far from a conquerer.
i am nothing but a groundhog,
hibernating each and every winter,
and rising again with the blooming flowers in the spring.
with the warmth of covers,
the sweet caffeination of coffee,
and a familiar lover by my side,
what more could i need?
with all of that,
the accolades and the applause
seem far less appealing to me.
let me live, let me rest,
somewhere between solace and stress.
you'll always have my words
and i'll have my comfort,
my honeyed volcano of ash.
i'm not good at making promises,
but i promise i'll be back.