Fire Sale

Sandbox Challenge: Vulnerability

 

Hazel eyes so full of pain

   leaking slow moving snakes of shame

       like twisting streams down the cracks of his face.

           Hollow and black like the deeds and the mire and muck he plays so impulsively in.

 

Liars lips begging forgiveness from a well long run dry

   from putting out the endless dumpsterfires he creates from his chaos

      & burning all who dance close enough to the flames

          mouths gaping like fish out of water, perishing from the fumes of his toxic entrails.

 

Heart hardened and closed, mute to the cries

   of the damaged, needy child within him

     who bellows and then whines the apology verses that

        are as familiar as the back of your own hand.

 

Nothing left of the man in this moment

   just the plaintive cries of need and feed and bleed again.

     Your saviour’s cape musty with age

        polluted by the stench of regret and shattered trust.

 

Searching carefully for any shred of the man who so

   lovingly brushed your hair by the light of the moon and

       softly traced his name all over your skin with fingers that felt like butterflies landing

          to soothe you back to sleep after the nightmares.

 

Your mind plays tricks and makes you

   believe it can’t have been so long

      but it has been years

         since that man last appeared.

 

To witness daily the vanishing of the soul of a man

    is a suffering that cannot be written in words 

      he seeks his solace in the flare of the flame

          and in the pipe to his lips.

 

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4 thoughts on “Fire Sale

  1. calensariel June 29, 2018 / 4:51 pm

    “…To witness daily the vanishing of the soul of a man is a suffering that cannot be written in words…” How true and sad that is. Especially when there’s nothing you can do to help. Very eloquently written…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. janebasilblog June 30, 2018 / 10:46 am

    Powerfully written and tragic. This stanza, especially, clutched at my heart.

    Nothing left of the man in this moment
    just the plaintive cries of need and feed and bleed again.
    Your saviour’s cape musty with age
    polluted by the stench of regret and shattered trust.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Shannon July 2, 2018 / 8:18 pm

    Thank you Jane! Coming from you, the queen of poetry, very sweet words.

    Like

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