Rebecca Joy

About Me

Rebecca Joy

Just a girl finding her place in the world through change, adventure, and learning.

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February 16, 2021

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36 miles and I’m pulling my words out like tacky glue
Stickily, messily, reluctantly they release
And I paste them together in clumpy strings
Desperate for them to convey what I mean
While still hiding the patches I’ve pasted
31 miles and anxiety gnaws me like rust on metal
Because we’ve unfolded that map
To figure out where we are
Even though we know this road leads only one place
And even the busiest roads can lead to a dead end
28 miles and I’m watching the snow cling to the fences
Just thinking, I’m fine, I’m just thinking
(And keeping the tears sticking on the inside)
Wondering if I have marks I haven’t noticed
If that sticky, dirty residue was left with each pull
Wondering the shape it will leave this time
14 miles and the sun is setting
The miles disappearing quicker than super glue dries
We were quick too, a fast acting design
Sticking, but with no foundation of strength
Attached, with words we can’t … cash
9 miles and I’m stuck dwelling again
On the creature that stays behind my curtain
I know what it hides but won’t bring it to light
Unyielding, it burns with guilty self-preservation
But it’s shadow has been seen
5 miles and we’ve packed it all together
Gluing together the edges until we rip it open again
Knowing it will be just as sticky next time
And hurt just the same
4 miles and I patch up my corners
Closing my vulnerabilities
3 miles and I refuse to be stone cold
Emotion is my game
2 miles and I wonder if it’s just duct tape after all ----
1 mile and fingers brush mine
One block and I close my eyes
Because I know
I know.
I stick.
And then I pull.
I ask for sticky.
And I stick . . .
Until I pull.