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For Her

February 12, 2013


Beaten, maybe, but never broken.
Broken, maybe, but never bowed.
Here’s the words I should have spoken.
Spoken, maybe, but never aloud.

If I could have you recognize your beauty.
In the reflection of my eye.
The fears that hang about your naked shoulders.
Could all be set aside.
If it took a thousand years.
Until every star had forgotten its course.
I would never take my eyes off you.
Until those tears dried.

I played in the woods as a child.
One thing I can still remember.
The way I breathed in life; like manna.
That long and green September.
As the trees decided if they lived or died.
That fresh, clean smell of the earth.
As the dirt reached for the skies.
Everything that lay in between.
Where the rain grows.
Was that searching look in your eyes.
Before we kissed.

I hear the choir sing your glorious name.
Nights I whore myself to ghosts.
Angel’s tongues can barely sound.
The tone at which it rings.
For all the power of The Host.
They do not have the right.
And I scream it to an empty bar.
An empty glass
In my head in my hands.
For drunken pity and wounded pride.
I scream it to an empty bed.
The depths to which I’ve sunk.
To drown the choir that sings inside.

Come back and tell me I’m forgiven.
All these demons from me driven.
Back into the herd.
Back into the sea.
A simple exorcism.
I love all your broken bones.
I love the smile you hate.
I’d love them all enough for two.
If you could only wait.

I cannot love you anymore.
I have to put these thoughts away.
They burn like a single coal.
No light or heat given.
I’ll bind them in this book.
This book that you have written.
So all the world can have your beauty.
But they won’t see it like I do.
The world won’t write a book for you.
Know that if I see you, and you ask me.
I’ll lie.
I still miss you.
I pray you don’t know who you are.
None of this is true.


From → Poetry

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