SMOTHERING LOVE.


When those droplets of water cascade down your face,
It hurts to know I have a hand in it.

How is it that I smother what I love?
When you don’t see the bright clouds and rainbows I promised.

It hurts to know I have a hand in it.

I always kill what I love the most.
The dues of penance. The enlightenment of reclusion.

The searing heat of regret.

How is that I smother what I love?
My independence. My dependence. All a mix.

My weakness. That I seek to obfuscate.

My sense of being. What’s left of me.

…death to what I love most.
When my paintings ain’t on canvass no more.

But on rough grounds.

When the brush lines are unsteady.

When I know not myself no more.
I ask for illumination. And I ask for understanding.

I ask of you that which I’m unwilling to give.

Selfish me! 
Undue grace,I seek.

The street is lonely sometimes.

Even to a street boy.
Home is your heart. Do not send me away.

Do not kill the lamb for the sins of the bull.

When you look at me with pain.

I know I have smothered what I love the most.
When those droplets cascade down your cheeks.

I will yet wipe them off.

I will say “I’m sorry darling”

For those are words I truly mean.

For those I say only when I grieve.

I have smothered what I love the most.

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