recklessness is something i
found myself excelling in
from a young age
maybe too young?
when did this stop being fun?
when did this body grow so old?
but self destruction loses its appeal
rather quickly
and the soul breaks sooner than the body
i believed in this destruction
treated it like a gospel
too many death wishes to count
and when i did try
faint white scars like tally marks
the sheer number made my head spin
i needed something else to
believe in
another thing to be reckless with
the metaphor of my heart was a start
so full of love and remembered light
practically bursting at the seams
this constant beating
pumping of warm blood to cold limbs
maybe you’ll hold me for a while, my love?
i believe in love
like a poet and a hopeless romantic
maybe the same, but who am i to argue semantics?
being reckless with my love and my heart
all this love to give
bidding farewell to destruction and disaster
every human needs something to believe in
a reason to keep going
and love
reckless and sweet and freely given love
seems like a good place to start