I keep my distance
Because sometimes
The space between us
is all
I have
I’m going to love you
For all that you are
With enough love
For those things
you don’t
about you

So much love
That maybe
And in most part
I’m going to love
Those things they
say you are
That are not true

Even then
I’m going to love
who they say
You can be
Because I’d love
just to see that too

I’m going to love
every thing
and everything
you’d want me to believe
about you
Because I’m also
going to love
the very things
You’d wish you could lie about
But were true

So go ahead
try me,
Lie to me and tell me
Everything about you
and know,
my love
Love can’t help but believe
and I think I’d believe
and everything
If it came from you
I placed a bottle of wine within my chest
And invited my heart as a guest
We drank and danced as time drew nigh
Then my heart bid me goodbye
And I hung for life, for my heart to stay
But it pleaded to be on its way
So I drank to its farewell
That last glass of rose I’d ever smell
Drunk dance drink death alcohol loneliness life party
Painlessly I paved my way
through this life
Till fear came and brought it’s knife
(Or a dagger, may it be?)
And paved its scar inside of me

And so I, kept this walking
into blinding paths, unseen
And twisted trails and trials
that turned my dream

And though the scar I hide
was healing inside
I could not hide
it’s seam
Is that even a word?
So absurd
I’d rather ‘hmmm’ or ‘pffft’
Which I’ve often heard
But Shhh??
Well that’s slightly
between shut up
or be quiet

Maybe it’s a verb?
For it slips out of your mind
and slides into my ears
As it steers
the next action of mine
Without you saying it
I hear it
like a slap,
I snap
Almost every time

All your weird and
wonderful sounds
Is it even a sound?
I wonder if I’d hear it
If I’m not around
Along with the rest
of your
grunts and groans
All alone
In your forest.
There are blind butterflies in my stomach
They’re not thrilled, excited or ecstatic
They’ve grown weary and old
Not as keen as they once had been
or as sporadic

They once were warm and fuzzy
Now they’re frivolous, idle and lazy
Often cold, and lethargically heavy
Like a wet cement slab in my belly

Their wings are somewhat brittle
They flicker a flutter, hardly little
Weighted wings, no lighter than lead
Their movements are flighty and fickle

Adrenalin is overrated, outdated, baby
throw me something a little more crazy
Perhaps a tickle, to tantalise and stimulate me
and to flitter my brain into frenzy

Raise these butterflies from the dead
Wake and shake them out of bed
So please, Ignite a fire again in my belly
And drop that grenade down from my head
Everything becomes nothing without mind stimulation.

Poetic Surgery, Copyright © 2018,  All rights reserved.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
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