Poetry With Hart

I once said I’d show up early
     To my own execution.
As I stall for time pouring coffee into my sugar,
     I realize those were just hollow words,
Hollow like a scam artist’s laugh
     Happy only when fish takes bait,
     As whispered unwound unbound promises
     Of a fearless future.

Farewell to this empty shade, ghost behind
     Brown eyes screaming for the right to
     Cry an ocean from under my skin.
An ocean is under my skin
     Tide of memories flood in then recede
     To take all of me I knew,
Flood, recede, flood, recede
     Leaving nothing but churning pools of doubt
     Where the creatures of my soul
Swim to brood and nest and mate.

I am stalling
     The argument about to happen
     The deconstruction of my soul that will follow
     The years of unwept tears kept at bay
     Unleashing onto your shirt sleeves
     From the days I wish no one knew me.
Those days I wish I could’ve
     slashed my face
Those moments I’ve made it hard
     For you to love me.
Those seconds before the storm where
      Humidity has soaked my throat
to the point of silence.

Stop the clock,
     Take the batteries out of time.
Delay the execution of my soul’s
     One way to breathe
Delay the tide under my skin
Delay those days and moments and seconds
     I beg for silence in.
I beg for you to still
     Love me in spite of the mess I am.
Delay, delay, delay.
      Stay back the wolves in the living room
     Stay the anger at my folly.
Delay the execution
     So I may pour more coffee into my sugar.