journal · poetry


Come to bed.
Rest your tired head
on my tired heart.
I’ll forget what I know about you;
we can start anew.
If I can forgive your lips
on those hips
there’s nothing that I can’t do,
whether or not you’re around.
Although I lost all that I had
I’ll get it back again,
you’ll see.
Not bound this time by love,
but freed,
and completely, entirely me.
No if’s, and’s, but’s
or mysteries.
I will rise above my reflection,
this great and aching infection,
of another thing gone wrong.
It won’t beat me down.
Because now you’re no saint,
just a sinner like the rest of us.
Waiting for forgiveness,
or maybe for some time to pass,
so I will forget.
But honey this will last forever.
Because I want you to remember
that not all things are worth having,
or giving up.


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