Bed serves as desk.
I work to shorten breaths
moments of motion
Waves are steps.
Sun, moon, and scars…
Consuming hearts is pastime for some.
They rend. They rend.
They say they give.
They rent. They rent.
All is deposit with hope for withdrawal.
They capitalize on flaws.
They fabricate if they find you unflawed.
They castigate one’s very being for being.
Or their armor is rather…
Crafted of fear that another lover
will do them as dirty as another lover
or as dirty as they did another lover.
So when the going gets tough they go to another lover.
But hey… At least they’re gone right?
Hmmm… Not quite.
They linger in lives under a guise built of lies.
These scars are recent.
These lines I present
Are evidence of healing.
No scabs to pick.
No nagging itch.
Just return to innocence and conscious breathing.
Enigmatic winner by skill and not cheating…
Errol Percival Jr.