~~~

a flawless poem
if such there were,
will always be,
the next one

my poor soul,
my rag tag heart,
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy get, easy spent

if only,
how I wish,
could harvest my best,
and with golden cutlery,
excise
the single flawless poem
that I know is in my possess

lay down this hand, so weary,
from cupping tears,
be satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that when my casket lowered,
two hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best,
to ease the rest,
a papered poem record to join his whited ash,
his flawless poem,

his very best

*now eternal,
at long last

She's the beginning
of this gentle insanity
as I'm falling deep
into her charms
all over again

Night and day
Day and night
Begins and ends
with her image

And even in the littlest
reaches of her hand
I open my door to her
and in every release of it
I await again and again
until her palm is again
within reach
with the same questions
every. single. time.
in my mind

"What am I to you?"
"What do I mean to you?"

When you wake up
with broken heartstrings
after every reach
you learn so much
after each awakening

That I love her enough
to bludgeon the thought
engrave it to my skull
and accept the fact that
I am now only a friend that
exists to her
**only when I am needed

it's not what you say
but what you choose not to
that stabs at my heart