First Class
My 2 hands are not strong
enough to bring you on the 1st
flight back to what we had.
I can feel the past tense
pretending to beat down on my
head with your own fists,
stopping at the last inch each
time, and making my body
flinch and tense up.
The meaning of a martyr, I've
looked up 12 times already,
hoping that on the twelfth time,
what you say and what you do
match together so that words
will become my Judas no
longer.,
but I would still die for that
betraying kiss.
I hate worrying over things
I have no control over.
You would never think it would
take such physicality
to keep my spirituality when
born in a world full of demons.
It's rough, living this way; you
can't have one without the
other in this life.
My hands are not strong
enough
to save a single soul.
No nail iron driven openings in
my wrists to assure anyone
that
"It is finished."
His spirit may live inside me,
but I cannot be someone else's
Savior.
These hands were still created
to do marvelous things
like,
writing love letters on the first
of October
and, massaging your mind with
aspirations you hadn't even
dreamed about yet.
Though the fact of you being
far away beats me with a heavy
leather belt of unfairness,
a martyr
is only a martyr
if he's dead,
and I am not.
And even though sometimes it
may seem that I'm playing
tug-o-war with a freight train,
I'll keep my grip secure as
the strongest definition for the
word 'tight' will allow.
I will bandage my bruised
fingers in circles 1 by 1
because a circle will only stop
roll once you've told it to.
But even then,
when I look back and see the
10 chances that never let you
go,
I'll recollect the 1 kiss you
could've given me.
I'll remember the 12 definitions
that shout with the same
conviction
"You are worth it!"
I'll look straight down straight
up straight slanted & keep my
eyes straight forward at the
beautiful person in the front
seat of my heart.
My 2 hands aren't strong
enough to board you on the 1st
plane back as soon as I'd like to
believe,
but I will pick you up
when you need me.
You've got yourself a first class
seat.
Copyright © Spenser Jones | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment