Monday, June 20, 2011

of promisory sort

i don't suppose
its heavenly
to rest upon the likes of us
and fester in our brewing state
forgetting to regurgitate
the thoughts we're holding back
 from you

remorseful when
its past the time
to let old scars be plucked clear off
and muster up courageous speech
resenting every darkened leech
when bleeding first began
to stain

perchance there be
a melody
that reaches us, within our minds
with notes of promissory sort
resist the urge to scream, "abort!"
and opt, instead, for love
in truth

{polaroid : and bathing in our filth}
© kimberly k taylor, all rights reserved