my haggard wrists
lift me up
into my story
every day
i reach further into you
the end goals i have
solidly in mind,
red candy hearts
melted
in my hands.
i hold very little (to show)
you my
proverbial efforts i
keep trying
someday
it will come.
my
sorry haggard story
lifts itself up
out of here, it
bears the weight
of all my mistakes
pulling out
the gravity sound
of millions of critics
in the cavities
between you and i
i see
your hand in the dark
i see
how it is in the morning,
every day, without you.
this is
why i write. it is,
simply, a game of
tug and war...
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