Promise

Lend me your ears,

you film noir beauty,

with your overcast eyes

and wet paper soul.

 

In bed you lie

with an anvil on your chest.

Tears cling to your cheeks

like a child to his mother’s leg.

Your heart has been ripped

from its home in your ribs.

Death calls to you,

and you will cordially

reach for its hand.

 

With all your strength,

shove that anvil to

the ground.

Pull a tissue from the box

and wipe those salty drops

away.

Catch the culprit

who took your nirvana

and tenderly place it

back in its marrow cage.

Look Death in its

hypnotic eyes

and send it back

to oblivion.

 

Open the curtains

and gaze outside.

Your spirit shimmers

like the bonfire sun.

Scream to the heavens

and tell them you’re

beautiful.

Contort your thoughts

of blood oozing from

hate-pierced skin

into thoughts of

butterflies fluttering

into your velvet

paradise.

Learn from past mistakes

and embrace your

inner gypsy.

 

Who you were

yesterday

is not the same today.

Dance into the faithful

light of hope

and teach yourself

to fly.

 

 

 

 

 

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