#vunerable
Years ago,
They used to sleep late
And dance around their kitchen.
Before arthritis and cod liver oil,
Before endless hospital appointments,
Before the cancer devoured his wife.
They had spent their life savings,
On doctors who couldn’t save her life.
Penniless, alone and vulnerable,
He could no longer look after himself.
He stopped existing in a government care home,
With nurses who never smiled
And room mates who stared at the TV,
Like flowers facing the sun.
His children didn’t visit on Sundays,
They were busy sleeping late
And dancing around their kitchens.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 4:45 AM UTC
I may be thick skinned but this situation is hard for me
Wanna be on the defensive but you raided my armory
Want you out of my heart but you’re in my arteries
Want the melody but you have me stuck on harmony
Trying to help being a personal pharmacy
But with you I seem to have hit the lottery
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 1:08 AM UTC
why did i trust you enough
to let you see me bleed?
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 2:53 AM UTC
You got me drunk
You got me ******
Invaded my weakest moments
So desperate to please
To feel something
I had my doubts
I told you what I liked
Hoping you liked the same
We tested the waters
Pushed the boundaries
Learning together
I had my doubts
You punished me
Took my breath momentarily
Hurt me, made me want more
I came to you for all of this
You made sure
But I had my doubts
I got me drunk
I got me ******
Feeling everything but nothing
I had my doubts
From the haze I awoke
Standing on the filthy kitchen floor
No longer in doubt
I didn't want to hurt
Didn't want to get drunk
Didn't want to get ******
Just to feel something
I had to let you go
To get on with your life
Of getting drunk
Of getting ******
I like to think you've changed
But I have my doubts
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
Upon reading I stopped.
Savoring this touch.
I serached for narrative, your voice becoming my imagination.
I made this read much longer than intended.
Rereading each page minutes after the initial first.
We both paused.
Stumbling over each period.
Passage after passage the last chapter revealing just how beautiful everything is.
With neither joy or pain canceling each other out, both are necessary.
A paper cut made in haste.
Just as telling.
The intense angle each word represents.
The physical manifestation of not being able to move my eyes from the page.
Loud noises created in silence.
It seems real. Its chaos.
Four seasons coming into one.
This is life.
At least for me.
Rereading each volatile word finding vulnerability.
A sudden fear that rises.
A response that I over analyze in simplicity.
You write and I read.
A deeper motivation that isn't fear at all.
The pages collapsing in recommendation.
The intimate truth of holding everything in.
The cover hesitant of letting go.
All awaiting permission
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
Someone has cut my strings, Love
And now I sit here(vulnerable)
You take me in your (bitter)hands
And toss me against the wall
And as I slump against the broken glass
I think
Maybe it was you
[Someone is wailing]
[Maybe its you]
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
Can these feet be killers
& stab the concrete,
If only the ribs would come, and lie lie lie,
My wet streets, my wet cheeks,
My porcelin toenails break, sweat down cheeks race,
Eyes they started,
Deep breathing on & onoff,
Deep breathing on & on off,
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC