Friday, July 20, 2012

as a fool returns to her folly

my heart hurts

I want to keep striving, keep trying,
to swallow that vomit,
reinvestigate whatever taste I may have left behind,
chew over the chunks,
so maybe I'll realise
why I spat it out in the first place.

my heart hurts

You could grind me in a mortar,
make me dust with a pestle,
then still all my pieces would strain
to re-form,
in order to repeat
the foolishness I've repented of.

It's not a sin,
it's just stupid,
the tempting kind of stupid
that spreads salve on the hole in my hurting heart.

No comments:

Post a Comment