condescending

mere inhalation
does little to combat the ache of longing;

a drowning man can do little with a glass of water but understand the truth of irony,
and only after one has emptied both lungs does the price of breath become apparent:

it is when, at the end of each day,
one head alights
on two pillows
that the meaning of “alone” is as clear–
as well-honed, as gleaming as bright blades serrating soft whispers in the dark,

and prayers becomes meaningless beside empty spaces shaped like no one
in a bed meant for two

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s