Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 2016 Mike
 Aug 2016 Mike
sometimes i want my skin to crawl -
i want to sit my bones in muck and sink
until my nostrils are just above the level
where i can no longer breathe

i want to purge myself of every great loss,
that's ever been or will come to be

i want to exist in every moment that i live,
to feel every emotion with an earnest heart,
to see every sight with wide eyes and an
open mind ready to learn, unlearn, relearn

i want to evolve, though the process
will be painful and neverending - i want to grow
 Mar 2016 Mike
 Mar 2016 Mike
Grant me forgiveness.
For my mouth had acted prematurely
and erred.
Acrid words my tongue can't retract.
My lips quiver,
pursed and scared.

Grant me relief.
For my ego had lunged.
Fueled emotions that strayed.
Sensible thoughts in mind
that my heart had betrayed.

Grant me strength and courage.
Let the next morn's sun,
illuminate the dark obstinacy of my heart.
Allow this bitter turbidity to pass.
So I could walk the hard road,
to a brand new start.
Sometimes words carry more venom than fangs.
And often, the path to absolution lies first, in forgiving oneself.
 Mar 2016 Mike
The sun forgave itself
long ago, for burning too bright,
it scorched our touching palms,
cheek to cheek, it burnt.*

That night we whispered
A song to the reeds,
Let it drift down that
Wayward line of memories,
Let it settle in the graves
Of each bed we slept in.

We let fate colour our
Hearts recklessly, like a
Child who can't stay
Within the confined lines
Of their drawing book.

Until the dawn began,
And we let our skin simmer,
Melting on each other's lips.
Until we are only skeletons
Embracing through a
World set in flames.
"This is the way the world ends.
Not with a bang but a whimper.' —T.S. Eliot

© copyright

— The End —