love poems · poetry

Never Wrong, Never Right

93

I hear myself sigh and sigh
and turn my face toward
the wind so I can breathe,
I weep the words I cannot say,
the slivers of lust and
love that shredded me,
born with tragic blood in my veins,
waking each morning on a
pillow stained,
the salt of my tears
dried on my face,
and as I waken, every piece slips
back in its place,
in me there is no rest,
only resistance
in every wave
my soul does crest,
proof of my existence,
the sun upon me to keep me warm,
the winds that blow me to thine arms,
where I bury my insecurity,
deep under the heart in me,
the moon pulls and the night,
lonely,
that grave unearthed, I am bound to thee,
it sinks so slowly into my chest,
a death so peaceful it takes my breath,
it makes my spirit fade and shine,
whisps of whispers left behind,
so this I tender as my last rite,
to love thee more than I love the night…

never wrong, never right

102

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