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Nov 2020 · 97
Lies' Truth
Daniel Boyd Nov 2020
If a lie protects us,
is it no longer a wrong,
   but a new truth
Spares us a fate
  seemingly crushing but teasingly a torturous unknown
    a triumph lost or catastrophe averted
At what cost
  does this secret lye our soul
    a burning paradox
Plunge, leap, or fall
  to the same beasts they lead
    one of feathers or one of fur
To be devastated
  To be graced
     Heaven or hell at our fingertips
Nov 2020 · 80
A Surrender
Daniel Boyd Nov 2020
Stopped and still she stands so tight
Breath 'cross shoulder, grace neck to heal
Waiting and tense a tremble anticipates
No yet to touch but command of trust
A trace across nape, down chest, tease breast
Whispered down flesh so faint but electric
Pulse quickened, inhaled sharp but haste to hush
Fingers dance purposes in journey surprise
New country so clean in snow spread rushed
Below as above gaze tight locks both
Ease shifts gift given to restraint and kiss
Pure exchange submits
Nov 2020 · 90
Romantic but Hopeless
Daniel Boyd Nov 2020
The color fades with lifes seep from these pores
   Exposed and raw, fresh youth though aged
Not even a blink upon shores
   A dread so real now freed from cage
Time dragged passed, some scraped some more
   Brutal as new lingering and sure, no rest no mercy just confident impure
The man unmasked not strong as before, bothered by that held up a lore
   Demons they scurry tickle of touch, but claw at flesh torment their cure
Just dust in blood the end trickles near sight, sapped and defeated lost taste to fight
    Victory assured master afar confident upon siege atop contrition whipped sleigh, it's gluttony for what my longs touch
Home long lost from silence and fright, a fool for the history and too late known right
   Minions they pounce taking pounds and ounce, feed only pain tears and cries in the rain, inescapable they breed yet finally too much
No hope to end words fail in amend, shattering promise to rope this break cannot mend
   Despair rejoice no longer whisper to lurk but scream incarnate grasped fruits of work
They lift and lead taking surrendered upon edge, grinned at their trophy finally given gifts need

Riddles can fade, last trek I have made no more rhymes to send, I go to my end
Her love in my hand as robes unsheathed, retired to where only water shall I breath
Last slip from my grasp once oh so tight, my torment drowned with me, in this starless air's night

— The End —