Tireless up that steep, steaming hill
Steely and scorching beneath a blanketing Sun
My own sweat a delicacy to my tongue
Lips moist from the flaying, skinning humidity
Exasperated a life having known such a paradise of lieusurely pain
The day predatory, water washing up the shore gingerly, utterly prepared to drag you as a corpse passed the cusp of the two encompassing mountains
Once that darkness swallows it whole
The roads are haunting, walking exhausting
Whole body aches when it never used to ache like this
And we are even.
There lives a home in all of us
And mine was on that banquet, where rocks separated the road from brutal waves
Stairs to the pier creaking with every staggering, drunken step
Those memories growing fonder and fonder
Of bringing me to ruin.
Ever so stoic, there's never been a day since then without tears that was at all remarkable
Was I ever deserving of Eden if I don't want to live without it?
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Author:
coracaodacripta (
Online) - Published: January 14th, 2026 18:04
- Comment from author about the poem: Can't always be where you want to be in life, I guess. How ever selfish of me to know only that nostalgia does not lie to me. Or is it hinting, maybe, at the precarious notion that it does? This poem illustrates freedom from the constraints of secrecy, of abandonment, and into the things you cannot tell, and all the ways of careless abandon; where everything has been put on display, from the Sun and its mighty blue skies to the night and its constellations.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Online)
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