Andi Leigh Writes

We had A lazy day And marinated In The good things. Can you Taste What simmers In pots That we stir? We Tend to Sprinkle in A little more Soul Than needed.

We don't need to sip On empty tears. We don't need to listen To melodic slander. We can walk away On secret paths with Soft pebbles instead Of rocky shards.

Everyone wants their Pots full of honey, Sweetly churning While they refuse to Share. It doesn't matter If someone's pot Breaks— Others will try To fill any Empty space They may not Even have With the gold that Wasn't theirs. They are drunk On sugar, with no Other concern.

Here I am without A writing desk And plenty of words To fill cabinets, And drawers, And jars, and pots— The plants will Nibble Upon my work, The kind of work That I can't help But let take control Even without The proper space.

When there is Abandoned adoration, The skill to Remain Will save your breath. Do not worry About scars that wriggle Upon your skin. They will fade And fall Leaving room for You.

There is no use In a broken mirror When you can become Engulfed With ideas by watching Chilling pools That will share secrets It knows You cannot keep.

We can tangle like wildfire. Our smoke will stain Each other's lungs and the Light we feed between us Will contain the ash of Everything we ever burned.