Haunted

Haunted
by what never was
what never could have been
the burdens of a weary soul
dragging down again.
All I ever offered
was never quite enough
and all I have to show for that
is silent broken love.
So nothing now
is all that I can be,
no words, no voice,
no presence at all,
I can offer that at least.
And then there will be nothing,
but what we are haunted by.

Untitled

But for a word
or a whisper,
a breath of forgiveness
I gave but could not receive,
you could have saved me
with nothing but time;
and though you’ll heal
know I will not,
for no secrets kept
will escape this soul:
I shall bear to the end
your scars and my sins.

To the Bottle

The pain of loss,
of being wrong,
that moment I want
to take back.
Forgiveness isn’t coming soon,
or so it seems,
and so I run
to the bottle,
yet again.
 
Staring up at Heaven
from the bottom of a glass,
questioning my choices,
even as I make them,
questioning my fate,
even as I make it,
I see only the clouds I’ve cast,
the rain I’ve made,
and the world
I’ve forsaken.
 
All I hope for
is to forget
and numb the pain
praying that I find
the peace of sleep –
of oblivion –
and that on the other side
the storm has passed
and you’ll be there,
still waiting for me,
always waiting for me.