Where It Hurts

I see her

(1)

days go by and I live my lies

truth sacrificed for a smile

minutes pass and I don’t look back

just walk another mile

could I take you there, is your existence dependent upon perception or is there more to your being,

is that the real you I’m seeing?

(2)

I’ve learned what I could as I fought through my dead-end-roads to land untouched by asphalt or steel cables, metaphors notwithstanding I have discovered uncharted territory inside the accepted reality.

Could I alter your vision, I would

to put broken edges to gold and silver

(3)

A secret language, he says, and explanation is requested. How can a lesson be gifted to the un-learned and un-tested? Speak you the words from where you can find truth,

your own secret language will expose the way forward.

I would linger with thee a while, milady, I would borrow time from the dark to see your hand brush back wayward locks, I would surrender days from my calendar to gain a minute from your clock.

(4)

Th’ words ain’t always special and sweet, ya dig? The streets I grew up from were littered with bodies and shells, a little slice of Hell in this life where a poor white boy don’t fit in, rich friends had it all and black boys tried to see me fall, I was stuck in a gutter with only my hands to throw or my words to deal.

(5)

Did you see me there? I was watching for you, sweet sister, I waited by the trees at the end of the parking lot and I couldn’t find the stuff but I brought you the money, I never cared at all why you wanted to escape, I just wanted to go with you or at least see you off, I was always there trying to lead you from behind, I was always lifting you to see what you could find if you just looked at yourself without hatred and anger, you were full of beauty and danger, you were a sail full of adventure and I was your anchor,

you cut me loose.

(6)

Desperately I feel through my pocket for you, I need to have your warmth in my fingers. I ache, I break, I’ll take you as you are, why are you so far?

Open your hands and reveal to me what you hide from them, open your eyes and see what I carry for you, open the door and let this life out while we rush through to our place.

(7)

A month of Sunday evenings have passed yet it feels like a conversation we’ve never broken. You were, you are, you have been and will be the back, front, sides and top of my mind but never the bottom. You are the sneaky smile in the corner, you are the last drop of whiskey rolling down my chin, you are my sudden and undeniable desire to burn it all down, burn it all until the flames consume all that has ever been,

just to see the light reflect in your eyes.

7 thoughts on “Where It Hurts”

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