with the palms of my naked hands,
I grip the sparse rope of faith.
I latch on with all my might,
red blisters slowly arise and form
on the bare palms of my hand.
The course fibre pricks and stabs.
The green of my veins pop,
and my knuckles go powdery white.
The journey is quite slippery,
It seems as though I can't quite hold on,
no matter how hard I try.
I have made it this far,
yet I wonder if I'll only ever,
make it this far.
This thing called faith
is the only thing holding me together.
Yet faith is the very thing
that is so hard to keep and latch,
stashed in both
the beat and rhythm,
of my heart and mind.
I will latch on to that slippery rope of faith.
The journey is rocky,
in no way shape or form
is it smooth,
or ever will be smooth.
My knuckles will turn powdery white
the blisters will always form
the course fibres will always prick and stab
the palms of my bare hands,
and the green veins of mine will always pop.
But you see,
I did not come this far,
to make only it this far.
YOU ARE READING
SHITTY LOVE SONNETS / flashpoetry
PoetryIt was only in the chaos, I was able to cultivate my wings and alas, take flight. ------------------------ flash, emotive poetry - words of mine, to all the boys I've loved before, but also to myself. started : summer 2019
