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“Take, then, what you will.”
“I will,” you said
“Until there’s naught but nil
And gone and dead and stopped and still
Are all the thoughts you thought would fill
The glass that is your empty heart
So never shall it hope to spill.”

“Take, then, what you would.”
“I would,” you said
“More than I ever should
And by your hand, you sever good
Where my endeavor never could
Repair the fragments of your heart
I heard but never understood.”

“Take, then, what you must.”
“I must,” you said
“Until there’s only dust
And all you have are lonely gusts
Of wind now sewing cold disgust
Within your frail and fading heart
Where yesterday was slowly crushed.”

“Take all that I had,”
“I have,” you said
“The happy and the sad
The meaning, mourning, and the mad
The gleaming, gloom, and all the glad
From this, your gray and idle heart
And nothing, evermore, shall ever add.”

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Sentiment


Dead and cold
Skin
Is leaden, old,
When,
In dread, I’m told
I’m led and sold
By this
Regret I hold

I persist…
Descend
A lifeless tryst
To end
Goodbye, Mistress
Should I insist
Of you
A final kiss
And if so…
When?

Life is still,
New…
Strife and ills:
True.
Knife and pills…
You…
Might just kill
The light I feel
Few
Strike or heal
My heart
Just like you do

Bloodletting


Sometimes I need to hurt myself to know
If any part of me is still alive
Or maybe just to know I can survive
Or that I have heart and when I’m cut there’s blood to flow
Or maybe I just like to play with knives

Sometimes I need to hurt you just to see
If any part of you was really there
Or maybe just to see what you can bare
Or if, when you get injured, you still bleed the same as me
Or maybe it’ll prove you really care

Sometimes I need to hurt so I can tell
If any part of me is really real
Or maybe just to see if I can feel
Or just to see how far away I am from being well
Or if there’s something left in me to heal

Sometimes I need to hurt and so do you
And maybe that’s the reason that we try
To see if we can make the other cry
Or maybe to connect through all the pain we’ve suffered through
Or maybe we just realized that bleeding out was faster than goodbye

Still


I loved you like a holiday
Those days, I never celebrate at all
I died the day you called to say
That every minute spent with you was nothing but a stall

I sought you like a summer day
Those days, I never even leave the room
I stayed to watch you run away
But every day before you did, I knew you would, and soon

I held you like a setting sun
Those moments, I have never tried to see
I told myself that letting one
Within would only guarantee they’d slowly die with me

I lost you like a solemn prayer
Those words, I’ve never spoken…never will
I’ve flown away and fallen where
This heart of mine that never heals can be forever still

Thread


Of confidence, is there a shred
Upon the spool where long ago the consequence
Of being pulled and being pushed
Were words conveyed – now ever shushed
But never put to bed

When eloquently never said,
Or quite declared, the implications relevant
Forever spared in grim belief
That this would ever grant relief
Instead of mounting dread

So ushered in and softly led
With what I now recall, the gentle touch of sin
A broken vow we sealed away
Beneath the sheets of healed decay
Where truth and tears were wed

Of innocence, I begged and pled
And promised you the beating heart I’ve given since
So honest, yet, you disregard
But no one tells us love is hard
Or how it plucks and pulls our every thread

 

Blemishes


If my nose were missing
Would you treat me as if I
Were just a snake forever hissing
Just a pest that needs to die?

…Or would you so embrace
The imperfections of my face
And all the flaws I can’t erase
And see instead, the parts that cannot be replaced?

If my hands were mangled
Would you treat me as if I
Were just a monster to be strangled
And discarded like a fly?

…Or would you try to hold
Me knowing well how very cold
It is when empathy is sold
And by our blemishes, our value is controlled?

Coward


Speak another word under the lens you colored rose
As if it lends the word of friend before you end it with repose
…For mending and depending, if upending, are disposed
Beneath the fallacy constructed upon how words…

Open doors of meaning, shining light where shadows grow
But in the night you so delight in hidden spite you’d never show
…The right becomes a blight, a silent fight of letting go
And not acknowledging when things have truly soured…

All the points of paragon – now pinnacles of pain
But never cynical, so clinical in sinning it’s insane
…A minuet of bending, an ascent to the inane
Without response for the remains you left devoured…

And bleeding on a field atop a pile of despair
And all the while, you would smile, as if styling your hair
…It’s vile, hard to file, reconcile or repair
The view I had before I saw you were a coward