Your play

I have given you ammunition:

Mortar shells and bullets;

Handed you a gun

And provoked you to shoot–

Whether you choose your heart

Or mine

I already feel I lose

 

© 12-31-2012 L. Ashwood

Men Do Cry

Real men
Have the strength to be weak
To break down and weep
To honestly feel
Without fear
Of a tear

Trauma Unit

Like a recovering amnesiac
I get vivid flashbacks:

Triggers
Like a shot to the head

I feel:

Like a survivor
In a burn unit
That much more hesitant
To light fires

Some things break

When “I’m sorry”

Is later than never

And still nothing’s better

When “leave me alone!”

Break Down

The motor

Broken

Mechanic out to lunch

Home in bed

Repairing another

Or something else

Just elsewhere

Healing

Now that the bleeding has eased

And the knives have been sheathed

We may heal

You and me

Us

Too Honest

I took for granted that honesty meant
Complete Honesty
I stupidly told you everything
Everything that would hurt you

We made poetry

Some people make love
Some people make do
But you and me
We made poetry

I admire your strength

I admire your strength:

The way you know what you want
And take it,
The way you make up your mind
To make it,

I give you my heart

Bleeding

Beating

Bloody and bruised