So ignoble to want to keep it all and then to
realize that it is worth naught but a title
To potentially be able to take a form that
leaves one wanting to bury deep beneath
an unbeaten track to lie low for just a while

What price can be put upon a priceless piece
of Art, that can only be appreciated by 'the one'
Who bears the burden of owning something
that will only be just a trophy to gather dust
in thought, never to be remembered how it was won?

Fear: Will it hurt?
Bravado: Who would care?
Caution: Don’t listen!
Resolve: It’s no longer there!

“Did I hurt you love?” and a pat on the ****
goes a long way to taking away the pain
“No, no, it’s alright” but the blood that streaks
the sheets glistens in the shrieking storm
only to be distorted by the reflection from
the window as it drowns under the rain
“So the names John” but it’s not so much
the name, its more the casual way that
it’s thrown away. A sigh is offered up to
complete the act.
Not a care to place a name with the face.
Sigh
Isn’t always the same?