Honest something

On a day of long, slow deaths

when even the leaves circling to gravity

hurt my tender veins

in magnanimous sadnesses,

large, lush pools of heartbreak,

with the world’s everything stretching as far as a day,

I need something- an honest something,

to burn out there,

to know that my deepest falls have seen other hearts,

that I’m only relearning an old song,

to quiet an inherited storm,

something honest- thrusting,throbbing,

writhing,  ripping, wrenching-

it’s the least that life owes,

to cast out to air.  

Photo - 'Suicide' All rights reserved by Mishu Vass

Photo – ‘Suicide’ All rights reserved by Mishu Vass