There are moments I cannot touch…out of fear from being.
Dark, gloved hands, reaching out in leather and lace, pulling me from the sanguine times.
Floors that drop without provocation.
Shifting forest that call loud and severe.
And, yet I find, there is no voice.
Puppets and clowns amassed in bad intent.
This are the times that love and loss have lent.
I miss you when there is nothing more to miss.
I fall in love with you, each illness, each sorrow, again and again.
In the seconds that backtrack from past to present and present to future.
You are what love to be.
You are my friend.
Nestled in the arms of a foothill, discomfort is aware of my ache.
Though the sky etches out a glorious sun…is it forsaken?
There is no warmth from the ground below.
I push this transition further and further into the granite strings to my heart.
Whether heaven be above awash in blue hue or…below in what is home.
Remorse prefer I walk alone.
I have been thinking about…sin, as of late.
When it ends?
Where it begins?
How it hovers around from within?
A snap of the bony spine that breaks when seated.
Why did someone else place their misdeeds…in my mind?
Why the cheating hearts of childhood passed down a broken a throne?
A title handed down…for me to own.
I have been thinking about sin…as of late.
How it is meant to control.
How it is a hand me down…stunting the soul, as it grows.