Birthday

It's funny, I know.
For to be thinking, not about myself,
No. I'm thinking about your soft arms,
Your precious hands that cleansed my wound,
Your starry eyes, and your quiet legacy.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Prayer in Finals

Let me try to collect my thoughts. Teenagers. Stress. Ripples. It's a stage of turmoil, I've won before, Show me how to do it, again, Oh God. Show me how to lay my life and habits, My fear of failure and my time wasted slothfulness, My crutches of false gods and prophets... ...My crutch on her. All before you! Oh, Lord, I want to be your man, and your son. I want you to be pleased with what I am doing, and to seldom ever see me fall, Lord. Show me the way, like you did to Moses and the oppressed Hebrew out of Egypt's hand. I sound like everything I'm saying is a cliche, Lord. Please believe, your son, who wants to be with you. Forever.
Read more

La Palabra

I kill myself. When I think of you. I kill myself, When I think of you. You breathing. On my neck. You kissing my... ...And I'm dead, again. Build me a fantasy, Alone to wake, again. Show me a glorious day, Only to be gone, again. You kill me with nothing. You kill me with just thought, Again.  Get me out.
Read more

<>

I'm burning away, And I don't know who started it. My chest aches. It burns and I'm breaking. I was a kid, once. Didn't know about how tough it could be, down the road. Now I'm burning away. Wish I remembered why I struggled. Wish I knew why I died, And never got you.
Read more