Sometimes
I give a hard look
At myself in the mirror,
My eyes gleaming with
Sadness that has followed
Me from down the road
And my hair all *******
So it doesn’t show how
Much it has grown
I tell myself
I want to be a poet,
Someone that writes
And moves and
Yell’s at you how gritty
Life has been lately.
But it hasn’t been all that gritty,
Or *****, or painful or-
Maybe it has.
Somewhere I read,
That a dead man
Loves the hardest,
That what only matters
Is how good you walk
Through the fire,
That let life not separate us,
And who cares about death?
I’ve come to hate and detest,
Those who hate,
But when will it be,
That I take upon
My shoulders to love.
And love is not
Like a gas stove,
But more of
A bonfire
That turns night
Into day.
So warm to the touch,
But so beautiful
To have when
It’s 1:00 am
On a cold front,
And god,
I just need
Another
cigarette.
Please,
Let me love
Again.
I’m begging.
Be it in death,
Or alive.
Be it awake
Or dreaming.
Be it through
the extinguished
Fire,
Which means
My walk hasn’t
been that great.
To the one,
That lights it
Again.
I am between
Dying and not dying.
I’m probably not
what you want.
Neither am I,
What you need.
But I will love,
The type of love
To move states,
To be alone
If it meant you
Would be coming
Through the door
Any minute now.
it will
Also be rumbling
And the ground will
Shake and
I won’t know how
To tell you how
Much I really love you.
But I will try,
I will try so hard.
To be all I am,
And all I am not.
