Amity

I just don't want...

to go mad...

to burn...

my bitter memory...

with gall...

and wash it away...

in a urine stream...

of alcohol...

I could...

oh I surely could...

but then...

to what end...

as countless poets...

have before...

that's not...

my favored door...

of  self pity...

I would rather love...

than grind...

glee than growl...

all the time...

I have, away...

with some skinny bones...

in a bed...

with no amity...

let me love...

let me yearn...

let me learn...

to not rebuke...

myself...

for offering...

and offer love again...

for I was born...

to love...

and only hate...

condemns the thing...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: Half Length Study of A Boy, by Henry Scott Tuke 1858-1929