I have spent many months, close to years,
speaking to him
about dark days, I know
what haunts him,
bleeding from chicken scratches
on his body that he once believed was a temple.
I have spent almost novels of incoherent words
having to persuade him
that his blood; it is
worth every heartbeat,
so much more valuable
than any amounts of money we could ever imagine having.
I have spent a number of my broken-hearted days
thinking of him
and channeling his feelings
through my own nervous system, I can
feel his pain,
smile when he smiles
to resist the urge to bridge that gap once again.
I have spent exactly twenty-six minutes of my Wednesday
repeatedly learning that
the ingredients needed to be significant:
hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, and nitrogen
are the same as being human;
and I yearn to remind him that the universe lives within him
just as he lives within it.
I have spent four dollars and an item I hold dear to my heart
hoping and praying
he accepts the love he once thought was meaningless,
he finds his rock to lean on once again,
he knows that he will think of himself and for himself,
before he can rededicate to any other.
I have spent myself
my heart
my mind
my skin and all its once untainted nooks
on him.
For which I do not regret,
though I wish for someone so wealthy in their generosity
to sacrifice only enough for mine and their own significance
as I have in a lifetime before ours.
YOU ARE READING
Effusive Verbosity
PoetryI have trouble with being succinct, or rather lack being succinct at all. Poetry doesn't come naturally to me, not usually anyway. In fact, I'd rather indulge myself in writing a novel, but there are thoughts in my head and feelings in my heart that...
