Wednesday, May 12, 2010

In The Flame

I don’t really care for living, I fear,
But I’m incapable of facing death—
Not the rope or the jolt or any drowning or the gun.
There’s nothing to it, I am told, but I can’t get there.
I just stay stuck here in the flame in dread and doubt
And never leap for heart’s true beauty or go out.

Now when I ache I don’t know what for, but only
That there are few if any hearts that break for it.
I can’t pretend to pray for it
Or expect any other to see to it
And fail myself to see that this old heart, when divulged,
Is anything more than it ever was.

Sad songs and movies
Never used to make me weep
Nor illness, age, or death,
And I would as lief return there
Where a grievous song was only a song
And my heart among life’s beauties was ever mine to give.


Current draft: 5/10/2010
Created on 5/5/2010 4:27 PM

No comments:

Post a Comment

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)