Here are a couple more poems because that’s what I’ve been inspired to write lately.
Open Book By Tacy Gibbons I am an open book. When you see me sitting there will you read from the beginning, only to stop halfway through out of boredom? Will you simply start where the page is open without bothering to read what came before? Will you flip through a few pages here, a few pages there, then toss it aside, uninterested, uncaring? Will you close it up, look at the cover and decide it’s not worth your time? Or will you read each page, beginning to end, sometimes stopping to ponder . . . wonder . . . reflect . . . ? Will you push past the difficult parts and appreciate the story being told? I am an open book, waiting for someone to read all my pages.

Anxiety By Tacy Gibbons Sometimes you sit next me, constantly nudging me, reminding me you’re there. When I get up to go you follow at my heels like a new puppy afraid of getting left behind. Sometimes I keep you at bay, glance you in the distance, staring me down. I avert my eyes and focus on the light, the here-and-now. I’m happy without you. But lately you’ve invaded my space, my life, my body. You wriggle beneath my skin, turn my stomach and tighten your hands around my throat. You leave me immobile, paralyzed, attached to rigid chains and a weight that never lightens. Prisoner, I am, that can’t break free.
Re: Open Book. I think this well captures blogging relationships. Many of us have years of “pages” defining and illustrating our souls. Yet people (I’m guilty) pick up right in the middle, today, and try to figure us out. For the past few days, someone has been binging my whole blog. While I started out flattered, I’m now a little creeped out.
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