squinting, i peep through cracks of me
look deep down but fail to recognise the
dear parts of who you used to be;
i poke, then ponder, poke again but
find no shards i can scrutinise, bury or mourn
only tortured ash i dare not inspect
(for i treasure those pieces, my sweet)
a wish for my truth to also be yours is not fair neither wise
but i hoped it may ease your moonstruck thoughts
help you to raise your eyes long enough
for you to see the sun give birth;
raise you from your knees to become tall enough
to see the woods for the trees that they are
(for i would love to lead you to the light, my sweet)
seasofme120912obsess
