Open (day 123)

What would you ask for

if you knew the answer was yes?

I’m asking you because I can’t answer,

I can’t tell you

what to feel,

where to hurt me,

the places I have torn before

and so they can so easily break.


What would you tell me

if you thought the world was new?

For some reason

I kick myself to melt the fires,

string up my thoughts to bring you closer,

wind up every time we meet again

and the elastic keeps me running for weeks

For some reason

I only love what always dies,

I try to steal what cannot live.


What would I ask for

if I lived on long-lost breezes,

the stirring of the wind that could write you bare?

I would rip off the horizon, breathe

I am open here for you,

you are still closed.

How much can I give

to get the key?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 11/30/16

Stirring of the wind

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Dont_punch_grandpa's picture

Creative and it shows

Well done, we'll written piece. Thought out and catchy, very good poem

"Some people die at 25 but buried at 75" Benjamin Franklin