Who am I still if not trouble
and the delights I long to turn to
trapped in pages, at home in bottles
a careful presentation, who has to know
I’ve more in common with killers
than any friend I have known
a careful mask, a madness only
transcribed and trapped in pages
and when I do die – lover, family
do not publish, I’d rather them not see
anything I felt safe sharing is out
and these yellow, private pages
a spilled madness, guilty secrets
deserve only to be exorcised
punishment fit for those almost-crimes
let my ghost rest, friends still sure
that I might be good
after all



Filed under Poetry

7 responses to “29.

  1. I think we all have a few of those pages…some only in our memories. Very well written!

  2. thefeatheredsleep


  3. wow beautiful .. 🙂
    very very nicely done..

  4. I’m always very excited when you post a new one. My hope is the numbers will be forever counting upwards.

  5. Pingback: The Sunday Wrap: October 25, 2015 | The Seeker's Dungeon

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