come what, may?

it's that swallow of
guilt I can't help
but stomach;

it's the galaxy of rain drops
on the pre-dawn
painted window scene

& it's that look I
I know I'm being
given from miles and miles
& miles far
away

they've all settled
underneath my
skin

& everything that I
feel and fear
bears the burden of
a future sin
when all either wanted
was to just let the
other in

maybe I'm afraid of
the ever-fleeting
folly

maybe I'm afraid of me

but I can't seem to
help but rest my
tired bones
inside such a gentle
reprieve

"kudos to those who see
through sickness,
yeah..."

is this the final
exigency
I've so desperately
sought?

or am I still
writhing in the hell
of a life
& a love that was
for naught?


I called out caution
to the waves
& they called to me:


"may, come what?"