Poeming: She.

SHE


She called me “the deep one.”

 She was the blonde one, the pretty one,

 the petite one,

 so I guess it was good that

 I had “deep,”

 a word purchased by my

 overthinking/

overpondering/

going through the painful process of

being first frozen by the

fear I could do nothing

then moving through

thought-progressions

whereby I would

never trust myself and so

must look at

 

every

tiny

decision

from 57 angles

and would have gladly traded

“deep”

for 

“pretty.”

Written for the poetry prompt to write a deep poem. Deep end of the pool. Six feet deep. Archaeology. Whatever you write, just dig deep.

This one is for my sister Patti. i miss you, sissypoo!!