Sending them out.

Sending them out to you.

Each day. Without remorse, those thoughts

That hurt. A wilted rose is still beautiful to my mind.

And shall remain that way.

But also remains the pain.


I’ll never have it another way.

I will love him everyday

But also remains the pain.

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I’m Dog

Get that dog on a leash.

Get that dog out of the house it’s not ours.

Not ours anymore for we’ve treated it poor and now it’s shown us the door.

When the dog returns to see how we’ve grown.

Hopeful for warmth, friendship to earn.

 

Do we leave it outside? In the cold in the snow.

Do we show it some light? Let love flow and how so.

 

The dog has always been warm until it was worn.

Its bark turned to bite.

And it cut us deeply and took this trust.

 

But we couldn’t see the bite was down to us.

vessel

I’ve been contemplating;

those dark corners.

to paint my pale skin red.

and lay among the roses

and lay among the thorns

I wrote him a poem of how I’d get through.

flame grasped and it burnt

I consumed the ashes.

and lay with the regret

and lay next to death.

This Heart.

The heart is heavy.

For those who I have not let go.

It longs for a forgotten love.

So forgotten it has hazed in the mind

Of the truth.

The pain that it caused. The longing.

A different form however

As it is better to be longing when the heart is empty

Than when it is supposed to be full.

miss.

And she is comfort,
a ray of sunshine in her hair.
Synthetic yes!, But also authentic.
A brightness that blinds my thought.

Over capable conversation, know me better than myself.
Of course God could not gift one such as you an easy life,
for you would surpass the entire galaxy.

giggle separates the stress
smile separates this mess.

Take a moment to relish and witness her.

Such an image of humanity.

the purest depiction.

Vaguely familiar

via Daily Prompt: Vague

The Long Way Round.

Another story has begun.
In solace and innocence
will the gutter remain a friend or guide the light through.

Those rats gnaw their teeth on the sheer presence.
Of contentedness to stray from a figure of gloom.

Drowning the throat with sympatea.
The figure turns and asks,

“Why would one choose this long way round?”. One so vaguely familiar.