IT COULD BE

Sleeping seed
sick in our minds.

Wanting. Fearing.

You could be everything. You could bring everything.
If we allowed ourselves

Permission.

The stabbing emptiness of 20 years
growing inside my borrowed time.

Beginning 14. Ending not in sight.

Forgiveness is not a means to an end.
I knew you. Do I know you?

Why do we open ourselves to become swallowed?

We could be wrapped up in the security of our own demise.
Blinded by unborn bliss.

Turned on high. Burnt at the edges.