hold (bone ten twenty three)

but what did you expect to say?

one day you wake up and you’re

not on top of the world

even your bones have bled

the plants you cared for have all

ended their lives by going out the front door

nothing in the cupboards, fridge, or oven

timing the sleep by the rising of the sun

waking up the town with a song

eager to find the next fiasco

nighttime and this pain you made friends with

taking the boat ride to another galaxy

you didn’t care so little, to tell me,

then we wrestle like you do with the guy you bite

holding on then collapsing over

right hand holding a not angry wrist

evidentially we will do this again

every time you need attention

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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in fiesty, fight, fun, night, poem, poems, poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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