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Pain flooded these pages with every tremor rifling my legs
rewind that scene again, the one where I drown and you pull the water
from my lungs, force in air while I quake against the earth
rewind it all take me back to the day when love was a queen
the only soil in my hair was from trysting with joy in the meadow
but where to hit stop and where play and which future would I choose?

Instead of flooding I'd find myself in the desert sands
parched, skin cracking from persistent denials, no soul lubricant
no blood to pound against my skull when my heart trips wild
parched and facing a blowing wind I can't stand against
I'd find myself knee deep and being buried by the ripping blow
the forever storm of a stippled heart hardened by fear

Maybe rewind your own scenes to a place where no sorry need be spoken
no mending of fences on that day because you survived the vortex
not just lived it and left me bleeding in the ink on your pages
no mending because what was ripped and rubbed raw wasn't my heart
so I never weathered these tremors or spanned this sadness never
needed more than the healing forgiveness can offer well after

*image via pixabay.com*