A Thought of Home
A blackened spider web, my mind is a cigarette.
From the ashes falling like thoughts,
my heart becomes a briquette,
An oozing longing for another time,
A poison perfume to reminisce
Oh, honey, I don't want to share this with you.
It's the night that ignites my hazed emptiness.
Burning just became the thing to do,
A layered silhouette to breathe in like a bruise.
Your touch is a silence,
A soft blue dreariness that lulls me to sleep
Like a smote clearness that protects me
From my toxic blood-life-source.
From my veins to yours,
I'm hurting you.
Baby, I don't want to share this.
My eyes are smoke orbs,
Two reapers that absorb your core.
The night feels like your presence,
A cold hug that keeps me warm.
And, there, I'm home, always home.
Alone, on a rainy day,
I remember the smile that always replaced
My awkward blackness,
The creep that lives in my being.
Dear, they're one in the same.
I'm gone.
I never wanted to share this with you,
My former and present friend who had to get away
From my character old and decayed.
Home, sweet home, I'll leave you today.
I'm out on my own, doing okay,
But all I know is that I'm taking my pain.
To protect you from me is what you need.
I've kept two pictures, a chest and a day.
You'll see things clearer and I'll be the same.
Oh, I know you're better off without me.
Your grace is an echo,
A presence that comes back to me
In dreams that take me away.
Home, oh, home, it felt great.
To be home.
Copyright © Michael Guerra | Year Posted 2007
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