I bleed rose petals
from the scars
across my heart.
Whilst your
fledgling wings start
to show that you too
will soon depart.
This I know.
Good things come,
then they go.
It's the way
the hands
of the clock
seem to flow,
but until that day
I will give my blood.
Let it all flood out.
All my goodness. I'll give to you.
A stream in a drought.
Seemingly just passing through.
I whelp in pain
as thorny thoughts
scratch the tired brain,
my hoary voice
stretched to within
an inch of snapping.
Horny moments
left slowly sighing,
flapping as they fly away
into tomorrow whilst I'm
lazily napping.
With no more words I can say,
nothing will make you stay.
And I bleed
my rose tinted
fragments over
the bedsheets of time.
I read line after line.
Trying to untie
my own straggled thoughts
that bind so tightly
that any blood has drained,
and those remains of thoughts
are now just strained,
dulled into yesterday's faded refrains.
I struggle to find a thread
in the words that I’ve found,
to pull and untangle the mess
that surrounds my head.
And I cry autumn leaves,
as you open the doorway.
To take your first steps
into that new fresh breeze.
I've wept. So many tears
that now the floor is a swamp.
For so many years I lived in a slump,
but now I'm finding a new path,
lined with different tree stumps.
A path that will lead to love.
A path with a sign that reads
self-love is the first step.
Keep climbing please.
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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