Thursday was always the end of the beginning
The nights you piled in,
Stumbling to me again,
Top of those stairs,
Hidden bathroom talks,
Hidden fears never released,
It was pen, it was ink, but it
Was your voice that scared me the
Most—couch family, did you leave me?
It had tears in it, it had water in it,
Its pain spilt all over the floor–
Now those haters say I am to
Abstract, like a John Mark McMillan
Song—this heart bleeds, this hair recedes
Not to soon before age embraces me,
Older, single, alone, or satisfied,
Content not for the content that I see,
That I look upon
Raw is the southpaw no one
Can fight with—open is our hearts
O, Corinthians—vile they were,
Worthwhile they weren’t—for
Gifts distract but love attracts!
Today is all I have,
Spring to summer to another
Cold winter—sun doesn’t
Mean you see light,
Beating doesn’t mean you
Are living—let alive be
On the resume, for I will
Resume to know You
And resume to live for You