Lesser of Two

Poetry

If given the choice between
Blood drawn from the knife’s
sharply honed edge
or
Love dying at your feet in
a pile of disbelief
Which is the lesser
pain
Does the visible scar
Which remains continue
its throbbing
no
The heart scars thick
with memories of a forever
promise, relentless aching, every
beat
unimaginable the pain

Sinner

Poetry, , , ,

Wouldn’t you like to be remembered
As a saint not a sinner, he asked
It was something to ponder, I replied
Walking away with the thought
Of my eulogy when health was still
My best pal with no sign of leaving me
Imagining my end as a quick death
Where no one had the chance to
Think of all the awful things I had done
Words unkind that fell from my mouth
The selfish acts, the mean spirited choices
Could I quickly reform myself before
An accident befell me and I died a sinner
Carefully I proceeded home, tailgating no one
Thanking the God of no particular faith
In my desperate attempt to try again
For the winner’s circle, the halo

The view from below

Uncategorized

looking up, always
the view on tiptoes
to reach what is not
mine to have
even on level ground
I stretch to be there
forward, around and
sometimes down below
yet ever present is the
desire to get there,
where you are
even when I
am not wanted
needed for me
just my presence
unnecessary
not ever enough
missing the mark
this spot of lonely
where I am
simply forgotten
the light, the vibration
given no credence
no attention, not
a looksie until
my dreams
overtake me
and you sneak
a peek
maybe I will
answer and fill
the emptiness
of a moment
when you wonder
out of boredom
or unadulterated
curiosity if I
can’t live
without reaching
one more time
for a star that
was not mine
to ever have
reached for
with a chin that
mistakenly was
held high, adoring