Petits XVI

I always win

There’s prosperity in my touch

There’s blessings in my prayers

There’s luck in my wishes for you

Our friendship is the silver lining

My hope will become your potential realized

Too bad though

i love losing to those who say they care.

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Where I used to wince

There’s is only now wood

I knock upon it daily

Questioning if it will ever will be flesh once again.

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If you only like me…

Why have you done more than the one who said he loved me?

Why have you made me feel

When I was convinced that I’m all but hollow.

I hear a searching echo where i promised to only let in silence evermore.

evaporate

“The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune”
– Emily Dickinson

darkening shadow
sits high on misting pane

his beckoning words thrumming on taut string
the tapping syllables within the tin can tring

lazy fingers soothe
a bitten round
on silken shoulder
its swell still ripe
from being plundered

among
pitted sands,
petals, dewy-sliced
lay pierced remains
of the thieving drunk

shelter hides
the sopping invitation
muting the call of lowing reverberations

eying bait dry asunder
lightning flailed
still unheeded thunder

he will await
to finally reach up and
evaporate

 

i miss the light

i see too much…

too sharply, strongly

too vividly, viciously

 

i miss the light…

not chemical, not electrical

not that cruel piercing imperfection revealing lit object.

why not some dimness…?

 

some  smoothness…

some dark to wrap around softly but not at all lessen…

some thing hidden…

some thing saved…

some thing for one to know and one to find out…

 

let the light be created,

 

let it slowly fade the light-maker

 

let it lick, slide, drip, drop, fall, fly and burn…

 

let it leave a trace as all living things do…

 

let it spark, grow, flame, flicker, falter…

 

let it live and as all, let it leave.

Who knows of the blind one’s dream?

I await
that heavy handed caress
the earth’s vengeful finesse.

the oblivion i embrace
majestic and all consuming
magnificent when beheld
magnanimous with its tremendous power…

let me have
that thirst to survive
that willful instinctive frenzy
that one last
valiant attempt to breathe…
and wanting to breathe.

the minute
fading
the bit by bit
wearing
tearing
only makes
the rented holes
larger
yet brings
you no way
nearer to its
edge…

it remains
yawning ever wider
but only gnaws and nibbles away…

remaining above all else:
guiltless.