supposedly

supposedly

things get better

the very moment you give up

the very moment you out loud deny

that there’s even the slightest chance of seeing light

the very moment your heart says “no that’s it…no more.”

supposedly things get better

but until they do

all i can do is stare the hands down

as they tick away the time to supposedly: 

that unannounced moment when things will somehow magically become better

and i no longer will have to only suppose.

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

 

gathering

Dear one,

i forgo so much

to please you

but resentment grows

like a stubborn

unwieldy weed

 

each word you utter in just jest

and all that i must not take so seriously

they solemnly gather

in dark slashing lines

surrounding me

their meanings rise

like too long stifled truth

each begs for due consideration

for its time in allotted worry…

 

but there is only so much i can do

before i break

and escape this

soft and cunning

prison

of promises and pleas.