The Burden of Poetry

These words, each one,

holds a piece of me,

pulling apart like fingers in

a warm loaf of bread.

Then other words come

and add their own flavor to it:

some bitter, some sweet

some tart, some tasteless,

but always the words remain.

While I am here to tend them,

they’ll continue to gather me

from every hidden corner

of my mind.

Time to Go

“Are you so eager to leave me?”

“I am eager to leave. Are you so reluctant

to accompany me?”

Between nothing holding me here,

and you with no reason to stay,

we can break the bonds.

But one must

make the sacrifice.

It comes down to trust,

for while love is the fruit,

trust is the seed.

Both reach out, but neither grasps.

Both turn their backs, but neither leaves.

They search each other’s eyes, but neither

smiles sincerely.

The fork in the road is here.

We’ll walk one path together,

or two, alone.

It’s time to go.