Mud
I’d say something cheesy, like: You light up my life. But, there is no light in these veins. There is only blood; an ever coursing river of things I haven’t read enough about to fully understand. You are that mystery, steady and distantly piercing grace. Everything I do not deserve, but receive abundantly, as if I were an ill equipped lottery winner, driving his fortune into the throat of his own well being. You see, I never got to learn how to not love “too hard”. I’ve fallen under its boot, with each missed step and given it to people who never thought to reciprocate. I was a doormat for cold shoulders and loose winks. Yet, your shine drew away the curtains I’ve sewn into my own eyes and let me see in a way, far too long forgotten. Now, I can see through the window. There are rivers of blood out there, flowing cherry blossom trees on bent knees, praying to suck the life out of what I thought love was. Walking ghosts thriving on the quiet of lonely, shivering rebuttals. They prey. They enslave the nature of reborn insecurities, guttural chants, spewed drunken confessionals and hungover will. Sharks in the water of dedication, luring loyalty, and battling compassion. You see, there’s no light in these veins, only blood. But, you taught me how to bleed and use the pain of my flowing river to sink into the Earth I thought too hard to accept anything I was prepared to offer.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
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