I threw a stone at my friend.
She never saw it coming.
But we were fine until the time
She hurled one back and stunned me.
With mud, the slinging commenced.
And I saw to it she fully paid.
All bets were off, for as we know
Friendships sometimes fade
Only years later did I see,
“I wish we were still good.”
Unsent words shown to me
Of those red-hot angry days.
This lesson I learned late,
But I’ll share it with you:
Stones don’t build walls.
People do.
I despise beauty,
For it is never me.
It is too welcoming,
And I prefer not to be.
My wings are not softly glittering,
Like a mirror held for the stars.
I have no substantial colors
Worth trapping inside jars.
My coal grey coat is warm,
Camouflaging and unique.
I see no eager fingers
Trying to trap me for a peek.
Though I am much safer,
At times I will admit,
That beauty, although fleeting,
Is not entirely the pits.
For beauty could never be
A harbinger of ghosts.
Or draw too close to flames,
A fate I never chose.
For dwelling in the dark,
To evade the eyes of day,
I find I crave the light,
More and more, come what may.
But I would never trade my freedom
Without regard to the cost.
I can’t escape my truth.
I’m not a butterfly, I’m a moth.
So tell me, dear reader,
Which path would you choose?
A dreamer’s anonymity,
Or dazzling fame and a noose?
Break the bottle open Its half past nine Run out of rum and living on a dime
Night terrors eclipsed By a cold strip mall bench Always in thought, fists always clenched
My thumb a bookmark Between the Psalms and Job Living on pity and dying on hope
A coffee from McD’s A Chomps beef stick Wishing, wishing I could take my pick
Is there a chance… A dream of warmth? Could I be different, in stronger form?
Could time transform Could it peel away This dirt, this shame… Or is it here to stay?
Drowning for a taste Neck-high in the crave Quenching the urge with nothing but words
The truth is so simple And impossible to believe No grace could save a monster like me
A daughter abandoned A man on the run No woman could stand this son of a bum
I’ll take my chances No god looks on me And stick to my dances, the royal we
Break the bottle open It’s half past nine Run out of rum and living on a dime
If time had never perceived your Peter Pan smile, your wispy hair and dogmatic style Were I to never glance twice To embrace your every vice Or hold your calloused fingers in mine I do not assume this life would be fine
If where you stood, there was only air Would my mind recognize the absence of you? Or would I know despair? Your evolving mind - Steeled against status quo - It would never know The peace of sobriety Or the loss of indecision Swept in by a wash of Grace
What footprints would there be For your friends to see To be startled by the transformation The renovation of Jesus Christ In a life before which mimicked a shell Hollowed but now hallowed
Without you, the fourth finger of my left hand Would be barren No convenant between two souls Bound together, fed by the same bread There would be no one to steal my breath Or count the breadth Of hours spent alone No trombone laughter in my ears No solid arms to belay the tears No soft counting of freckles by my shoulder No graying hairs as you grow older
That brown flecked gaze caged by crow’s feet - never to hope to see In my arms, the soft folds of a baby As I am now melded to you Without you There would be no me So I will not say maybe until the day we Say goodbye When time carries us both away to…
