Go right ahead; unlock this rotting chest.
Inside you’ll find I’m neither cursed nor blessed.
But if you seek to tear my sins apart,
You won’t find evil, just a beating heart--
A heart that bleeds and cries with every death,
A heart that’s satisfied with every breath.
There are no ghosts or ghouls or sprites within,
But your assumptions fill me with chagrin.
Perhaps chagrin is what you thought was wrong,
And maybe now you’ll sing a different song.
YOU ARE READING
A Golden Afternoon: The Collected Poetry of the Late Matthew Packard
PoetryThis is simply a collection of previously unpublished (and unseen) poems written by my late Uncle Matthew. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed finding them.
