squinting, i peep through cracks of me

look deep down but fail to recognise the

dear parts of who you used to be;

i poke, then ponder, poke again but

find no shards i can scrutinise, bury or mourn

only tortured ash i dare not inspect

(for i treasure those pieces, my sweet)

a wish for my truth to also be yours is not fair neither wise

but i hoped it may ease your moonstruck thoughts

help you to raise your eyes long enough

for you to see the sun give birth;

raise you from your knees to become tall enough

to see the woods for the trees that they are

(for i would love to lead you to  the light, my sweet)

seasofme120912obsess