I have, more times than not, found
strength in simplicity.
Words woven like silk and doused
in finesse often lack a punch,
in a certain way.
They have their value, undeniably;
this is a personal preference.
In simplicity lies a certain rawness,
a certain commandment of bareness
and exposure, perhaps.
One could say, of course:
in solitude lies a certainty of
solace and a fortitude to bear
the sharp edge of memory;
I'd rather put it like this:
i can't look at your face without
being overcome by the thought
of begging on my knees for
forgiveness.
It may be enticing to write:
in foolish abandon we find
a plea for some semblance
of acceptance;
I find it stronger to say:
I leave my front door unlocked,
at night, hoping you'll barge
into my house and steal
my heart again.
So, come on. What are you waiting for?
Break my windows. Rampage through my living room. Take everything you want and leave me desperate, more than i am right now, if it means you'll come back for me just once more.
