I can’t stop
won’t stop
writing poetry.
Not when I lived my entire life
with someone else’s hand clasped over my mouth.
I’ve got to use my voice,
if just to know I still have it.
Tag: healing
-
valorous veteran
weathered warrior
steely heart.
such tales to regale
of battles lost,
battles won.
the past: his anchor.
its scars: his Kevlar.
hardened: he fears none.
but prisoner of war,
hold that secret:
yes, bite your tongue.
that one confession
its hated sweetness
he’d sooner taste a gun.
what a taboo,
oh, warrior,
it is to love…
-
So many ways to say I love you. I choke on the words. Please, please tell me you can see it in my eyes. Tell me you can feel it in my hands. Tell me you can hear it in my heartbeat when your head’s on my chest.
This strange effect you have on me. I’ve hardened myself to the world… but with you, my gaze softens. You melt the ice in my tone, you make me pour forth warmth I didn’t know existed within me.
There are daggers in my eyes by default. One look at you and they’re lowered.
-
I’ve heard of love described as holding cold, austere offices. I think these offices are obscured to the child who longs for a warm embrace.
Life forced you to choose between a fed child and a held child. I don’t blame you for choosing to feed me. I thank you.
I’ve figured out the warmth portion. I think I can hold you myself.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 