thoughtsonthebus

Sometimes during meditation they say “ focus on your heart area”, and so I do

And it lasts about 20 seconds before I start to think of my knees, or elbows, or right shoulder.

But then, here at work, sorting through Taxi receipts,

I can feel my “heart area”

It has an ache to it, like a hangover

Hard to pinpoint, but not to acknowledge

I wish it would go away

I wish it wouldn’t start creeping up into my throat

To stop the words I’m not going to say

I’m not even trying to rhyme here, but some

Time

It happens.

Others are looking for my “heart area”

But I don’t want to give them directions

Or even let them

Know it exists

Because once they find it,

They want to live there

It’s warm, and encouraging, and full of

So many others things

I fear you’ll never find out.