Not Exactly Saved

I've grown. That's bullshit. I've decayed,
A long fall, starting decades back,
Without an end. That's getting old. I do
My best, I guess, to glide, but gliding's falling,
Isn't it? And getting old is rather dismal,
Hence, my newfound brightness when you
Showed up, young, and seemingly
Attracted to the parts of me which,
As yet, have some life in them. I cannot
Say I understand, but I will have you;
Christ, I'll cling to you until you turn
Away. You give the glide a flatter path.
You stop the tumbling. Suddenly, I
Feel as if your kisses and your arm
Around me let me grow. I know that's
Bullshit. Even so, they limit the decay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 56 times
Written on 2014-07-18 at 01:05

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