My Womb

poetic thoughts on my life at 25

I linger here in the middle,
floating, waiting, anticipating.
I am curled up in the
womb of my future,
slowly inching
my way down the birthing
canal.
This womb of mine
has mirrors and a bus line,
and an old VCR that I can
play my favorite fairytales on,
over and over.

If you touch my hand
can you hear my silence
echoing through
your own soul?
Can you?

I wish we all could.