These scars have washed

Away with clarity,

A daring change if pace

From baseless remorse.

Of Course,

What exists is not

Merely between me and my sins.

Torturing my heart

Sparked kerosene tears,

And rended my love encrusted sleeve

Free of sanity.

You had the decency

To treat as a human being.

Even as I martyred

My emotions;

For far fetched closure.

Never again.

In the now,

I am louder than ever.

No overplayed silence

Between self reliant misery

And misconstrued words,

But verbose joy.

Comatose sadness

Is brought to life by

Each happening.

These events,

On principal, read bliss.

The past,

A reverent satire,

Is that.

A musing

Of loosely based thoughts.

I am choosing to get lost

Admidst a new story,

Penned by you and I;

Entwined in the

Clearest bindings.



Contemplates the integrity

Of us as authors,

More so the drunkenly chain smoker;

Sober, for the first time in ages,

I interpret simpler meaning,

Appreciating every page

We craft.