Thursday, May 9, 2013

How To End

The parting gift was not
of softness and silk
there was no card attached
certainly not a love letter
except the one I penned
to myself in a journal
to be rediscovered
and set free in flames
a few years down the line

It was not a sweet sorrow
but a burning rage of
redemption song
confusion giving way
to clarity in the eye
of a storm that drowned
out the thrumming
electrical bite

When lightening strikes
it leaves a beautiful scar
on dead girl walking
on the splitting trees
a landscape on fire

When fire consumes
all of your pretty little
offerings mean a whole
lot of nothing, a wake
a flood, a drowning out
painfully clear is less
painful in the long run
than mildly debatable
what-ifs and maybes
and that is the gift

If you are going to kill
something, kill it dead
be swift and certain
in your swing of the ax
don't leave it thready
of pulse and shallow
of breath, clinging
to slender hopes
a clean kill is a kindness
a parting gift of peace

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