HEALING – mar 27,  2006

 

I'm used to rejection; tasted oftentimes

The bitterness of a shoulder turned cold:

For all I had strived and tried bold,

There was straw to munch and empty rhymes...

 

You were but the last...   never no more

I'll look again for love, as vanity, I'm told,

Is but a sieve of dreams: empty of gold

Was the mine; padlocked I found the door.

 

No need for the sorrow your soul impounds,

Neither excuses to present the brain explores

Nor blame or guilt that your heart reverses;

 

All that you did was reopen my old wounds,

But I just scabbed again the oozing sores

And took away the pus... as ink for my verses.