Guilty

When all is said and done,
Who is there to draw up the ends?
It depends.
Upon
Who was the guilty one.
Who made the mistake?
When all is said and done,
Who will rebuild, who will remake?
Who will replace what is gone,
When all is said and done?
When all is said and done,
Who is meant to make amends?
It depends
Upon
Who was the guilty one.

All Poetry Aside

I don't think that this will be my best poem ever, but it is unique because I feel it, truly and honestly. I think there are so few things out there nowadays that are actually felt, that actually take root in the soul and base of some deep emotion. So here it is, some mediocre poetry.

With all the bones in my body,
And all the breath in my lungs,
With all the words of rhyme and meter
Unspoken and unsung,
With all the loneliness, all the pain,
All the sadness, all the shame,
With every touch and every smile,
The paranoia and denial,
All the kisses, all the wounds,
Every fight and every bruise,
The uselessness, the futility,
The childishness and stupidity,
With all the good times, all the tears,
All the hours and the years,
With all the seconds, and the sighs—
With all my life, I love you—
All poetry aside.

Just More Words For You

I hear voices speaking,
High tones in the low light
As it catches surfaces unawares
And casts long shadows.
Here, I find my own
Among these voices, I am speaking,
On love and life and very flighty things—
Here, the hours turn to days in our cups.
Still, the only memories I have are of you
And I speak of other things
As learned men speak of Dragons
And Fairy-tales.
Underneath it all, you exist
Behind the frayed edges of
Reality, like a secret
Hidden, silhouetted behind
Lace and lamplight—
Sacred, like a prayer, whispered
In the confidence of the night.
Inside me, you becomeThe words that I have yet to speak.