1
Sheared. His milkflower skin did nothing more than stay a pale
shade of white. The blue
rivers of ice. Clear enough to watch them, rushing down his neck,
his wrist, softer then the space between his lips.
They said he wasn't real. No one is real enough to hold
me between the haloed rings of their eyes, clutch me together
in those minutes before day break like a prayer,
settling me down like something fragile.
Lord, how I wish I wasn't fragile.
2
Say hello, say mellow.
Say better, say try to believe it anyway.
Say healing, feeling, I am worlds more distant then before,
say numb. Say none.
Say sage, honeysuckle, and the tweets of a young bird's song.
Stay.
Say lilies, iris, all shed like remorse.
I shall walk through the valley of the shadow of death.
Nevertheless - Stay
3
In the shadow of sleep, I watch my father take a knife to his throat and slice. His eyes seeping sap like a tree overgrowing with whatever might be considered as rejection. I remember him reaching forward, pleading almost for a saviour, in the same way I had begged for him to return. Yet – The fear became apparent, as clear as a nightmare in slow motion- He could see me, me - a tapestry of scars.
In the bathroom of a stranger's house, I vomit up my feelings like apologies, praising the fact that a man drenched in surrender, is the closest thing to a honeyed reflection I have ever had to accept.
They tell me to try and get better.
4
I had kissed him solely to prove that I could.
that my heart could beat for anything besides regret yet still his smile
stretched out dangerously red.
How I had felt so hollow, a shell without a centre, his smirk,
scraping my insides out from within me.
5
Say sorry, Say end, let it be over -
say amend.
grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change-
There's a black ghost running through the sound,
growling, like the words holy enough to be remembered.
The courage to change that which I can -
I still do it sometimes, when I feel low enough to force
my body into a restrained question mark, asking, is it really worth it?
And grant me the wisdom Lord, to know the difference...
6
I have the grace of feeling lonely in a room covered with
the presence of people.
To feel empty, no matter how much I try to fill...
7
He holds me larger than life. The only large I have no worry of being.
I wake up, and I see how the world is darker:
his eyes were there staring, disgusted.
Blazing, like shredded browning lilies set on fire.
I close my eyes and somehow -
I forget entirely how to breathe.
His mouth, shooting "goodbye" like a machine gun
yet in his voice, there is no good.
8
I cower, restrain, and lie still.
Play dead – I think.
They can't hurt you, if you're dead.
9
I am considering hurting myself again.
.......
Sorry.
YOU ARE READING
Vultures And Other Vulnerabilities.
Poetry"I hope it gives you the same satisfaction as finishing a really good book, Or kissing someone, and not walk away feeling like they have taken something from you."
