Poetry & Prose

It never was.

But because it is

On another plane.

And that pain

Is a sweet balm

I'm all wrapped up in jealousy

A blanket of my own making.

Stitched with shapes of anger, tears.

Quilt squares with scenes of a life unmet.

It's warm here.

Theres a certain comfort

though the fabric scratches.

My breath recirculating.

Threatening panic

At such hot and vapid jealousy.

It would end me

If not for the tether

Of the heart.

Connected in understanding

In belonging

In uncomfortable

Unbridled

By Geoffrey Chaucer

I'd take you at 60 years old.

I'd take you at 80

I'd take you with one foot in the grave.

You are the path I was suppose to take anyway.

Bound yet companionless.

Strong if love is tender, warm

Easy to shatter when hollow, cold.

Heart races in sleep.

States of gazing

To times unseen.

Hopeless and floating

Wanting to sink.

Anchored to the sky

Don't blink.

Dont think.

Can't breath.

Just be.

Exist.