Poems · writing

Whispered Things

I’m afraid my heart is closing up

I’m afraid the love I gave was never enough

I’m afraid of Time

Of the lines it furrows deep between, under, outside my eyes

I fear the timidness lurking inside, a meek spirit waiting to take over any liquid fire slipping passed my lips

I’ve felt it entangle me, encouraging every doubt, stroking each insecurity.

A russet hound, sickly and old

Begrudgingly, I allow these feelings to take hold

Scarcely aware of the inequities.

Old stuff · Poems · writing

Unsettled Feelings

Walking in silence I pull you along, wondering, wandering, your face flushed and long.

Jumbled fingers and skinned up knees, you’re asking me, begging me, crying, “stop, please!”

A whisper is all I can give you. A hand brushed against your face. Water dampens my fingertips, and we rush on.

Running, not walking now, I pull you. Stretching legs and hammering hearts, the wind picks up and suddenly we’re slipping in mud, blinking through rain.

Must I go through this again?

Leaves swirl and branches whip across skin, I’ve lost the path. The sounds begin.

A wailing sound, or is that the wind? It creeps closer and I draw you in.

You’re safer when you’re close to me, or maybe that’s what I tell myself.

I can see the eyes, that scarlet glow, the rotted breath tells me all I need to know.

My arms open.

I leave you here, as I walk to the jaws below.

[January 2017]