Flesh and Bone

Was I a bit too real for you too raw, like meat bleeding on the butcher’s block too honest like an angel as I stripped the skin from my flesh flesh from my bones put every prickling nerve on display every taut tendon Did it frighten you to learn the truth of what lies beneath the searing burns and scars below the surface as if I’ve been lashed by the thorny branches of a honey locust tree Did you find yourself choking on your rank hypocrisy Your pathetic platitudes about love empty mewlings about empathy as you stand there stolidly silent setting yourself apart from all the nobodies behind your walls, your fences to protect your privacy when you know damn well their true purpose is to prevent what you don’t want intruding in your perfect fantasy of champagne soirees your loafers polished to a high shine black mirrors in which you can see yourself instead of us, instead of me From those festering wounds my words come the poetry I pen, the rhymes I wrangle, the worlds I write searching for a guiding light someone to share this journey