YOU ARE READING

Albeit flawed,

Poetry

I was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?

#poetry

Pennylace III

2 0 0

by axxwinterbourne

by axxwinterbourne

04/01/2019

01:44 PM

I'm fragile as a trust

crusty as your friend's house cat

I'm only a relief

to your weekend emptiness

overlaying your apathy

towards this city's

cruel maneuvers

it's sad that I'm only

an answer you'd

half expect to a question

you've asked in the past

and since then forgotten

you only see me as a refill

to your nearly empty cup

but I remain forgiving

and hopeful

that one day you would

handpick me

and hold me up

as a victory grin

takes over your face—

the reward loot from the enemy

you've long sought for.

That maroon shirt

I hysterically picked up

so I could move closer

and gape in wonder

how your smell makes

me forget about the last

time I smelled chamomile

I just want to touch your face

and lit up my gut

with fireworks grander

than the fourth of July

I forced myself in burying

you six feet deep in my

unfiled memories

so retrieving you

would become an ancient curse

but nothing else seems

to be availing

my habitual hopings

don't do me well recently

Pennylace, I am happy

I was once a part of your whole

but now I shall unload myself.