Unprecedented
The pain I feel,
Sucker
Punched
With words of best intentions,
I love you, but,
But, but,
Three letters that sting,
Nails on a chalkboard,
A sudden fork in the road,
A hug, but,
A kiss, but,
But
And I still have these same four letters
For you.
Tag: Poetry
And They Came With Guns
And they came with guns,
Angry,
Determined to end,
The restrictions set forth,
The vinyl gloved,
Masked nose and mouth,
6 feet of distance restrictions,
Priorities first precautions,
Laid forth to try,
Try as we may,
To stifle the exponential death,
Befalling the masses,
Reducing the number of graves of masses,
And they came with guns,
Claiming freedom or death,
Not recognizing death is already the prime player,
Death is the face staring back,
At the fool who only wants “to live free or die”,
Publicly choosing the former,
When living free means accepting death,
For one and all,
Living free,
Without precautions,
Without boundaries set,
For petulant children,
Is choosing mortality,
For each,
And all, unequally,
Death distributed,
Just like it is with liberty and justice;
For all?
And they came with guns,
Masked pale skinned
“Patriots”,
Demanding freedom of mobility,
Before a plague,
Ignoring their fallibility,
They were fearless,
For before a white supremacist society
They had nothing to fear,
Their intimidation,
Was intimidating,
But made no threat to the true establishment,
And they came with guns
Shadow and the Moon
The moon
It tells me I’m not seeing
The whole picture,
Cloaked in shadow,
My fears and uncertainty may be for naught,
I am in the dark without your words,
Without you star,
So I step carefully,
Guided only by the moonlight.
Apocalyptic Anticipation
I can’t bring myself
To do
The things I ought to do,
Even ought not to do,
Because I’m stuck,
In a groove of melancholic waiting,
Not really wanting,
Not knowing what to expect,
Or what to anticipate,
In a fast paced
Wait,
Idling in activity that seems so important,
Despite it’s triviality,
In apocalyptic anticipation,
For every moment
It is the end.
Burning Breath
I can’t breathe,
It’s allergy season,
A yearly occurrence
Yet still a fear arises,
With burning breath caught mid chest,
My mind fears another pathogen near,
That could further take my breath,
My life
Away
Precious Lasts
There is a loneliness
That resides in our close quarters,
An unspoken sadness,
An anger,
About the fear we speak of
But dare not name,
We are all knowingly closer to death,
And on the precipice, it is terrifying,
To see each other,
And wonder how long we have,
Before the unknown swallows again,
Before our hellos are really goodbyes,
The moments of nothing
Seem wasted,
And yet are our precious lasts,
To be with and be here in
She of Letters 