Because You Let Me

I lost.

Love in the palm of my hand I lost.

Let it slip through my fingers, let it fall through like sand in the ocean, let it caress my body and leave my soul untouched I, felt it was a moment. A fleeting moment where I was sad, and indifferent.

Where the hands that met me with honesty and compassion were dead hands, old hands. unworthy hands.

Why do you love me?

Why do you come here and tell me I am something, I am nothing.

I am skin and bones and flesh and a tangled web of lies that I have spun together.

In the heat of a moment.

Do you know when you kiss me? That you taste something else, that you taste someone else.

Do you know that I, lie awake in the morning and wonder when the guilt will come I lie awake in the morning wondering if it ever will.

I will hold you in the night because you are good and soft and kind.

I will meet you in the morning, I will touch your hand when you need respite from the damned.

But I will always keep the edges, hold on to the wrong and the misshapen because I am wrong and misshapen.

I am. I am deadly. I am a pit of flame, I am lava. I will gouge out your eyes and I will ruin your mind and I will do it while holding your hand because we do not live in a fairytale.

And this will not be a storybook ending.

I am cursed. I am the beast covered in scales.

I am slick and quiet, I will come up on you in the night.

I will take everything from you.

I will take everything from you.

Because you let me.

Joshua K. Jackson


17 thoughts on “Because You Let Me

  1. I understand.
    waking up from a strange dream,
    I went to work on my sight
    but I changed my mind
    and wanted to read someone else’s work.
    so I left my place and came to yours.
    and you read me this poem.
    yes because I let yoou.
    its called freedom.
    freedom of choice
    freedom of the heart.
    and yes I let you.

    but as i leave
    i do have to turn around
    and remind you;
    you can only take
    what i opening
    and freely give to you.

    a poem on your poem.
    ad lib,
    your way;
    but I must really go
    work on my sight a little
    and than go back to sleep,
    before I wake up again,
    hopefully with another dream,
    and feed people in another way.
    as a Chef..

    con lauda et ama
    emory wolf.]

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Such a beautiful writing – dark but beautiful! Reading your posts is like reading my feelings out loud. Please keep up your uniqueness and amazingness. Thank you!

    Liked by 2 people

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