Poetry / Untitled

Head first into the neon brush,
And that is what I always admired
About you,
Completely lacking form or consequence.
Bristle-thorned and lovingly scraped
Smiling past pain
to gaze at me,
arms bursting with roses.
Providing free beauty at any cost.

Then you would tail each sentence
in penitence and loathing
begging chances back,
reminiscing over burnt spoons,
empty bottles.
Each word finding a home,
filed deep and logical
in my nest of fear.

Stop asking what’s wrong,
look up from the ground,
See Me.
Sign pages, pledge oaths
insist that I believe
tales spun with blind eyes
and crippled hands.
Just breathe out one more day
So love can be a factor
if only for a moment.

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