Poetry: Wilt

It’s not the anger
that kills
It’s not the distance to the stars
that keeps us bound
It’s just enough comfort
that waiting
wilting
reclining
letting go of that last breath
it’s comfort that kills
to just hide away
and drink the dark
as if silence were home
and blindness safety
curiosity and courage
are light and life
drink
them -
live


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Christmas Blog Hop

Excerpt 2: Redeem Me