Facade

"Pray for me," he begs. Ignoring tears on his face, He whispers, "I'm fine."

So Confident

There are days I walk
Chest out, challenging you all
All bluffs: I'm nothing

Distorted Reality

Feeling echoed touch
Drifting over phantom skin
Memories fool me

Willing

I would give so much
Over and over each day,
If it would matter

Chased by Ghosts

I hear
Them from behind.
Distorted echoes fade.
And know that like the times before,
It is no use at all to strain my ear.

I still, though, think that this time I will hear.
So I try to distinguish more.
But although I have prayed,
What do I find?
I fear.

Hope

It lays
Upon a ledge
Deep in a closet down the hall.

I (almost) wish that it will fall.
But on the edge
It stays

Yet still,
When friends arrive.
I drag it out to its display.

So when they leave, they'll turn and say
"He might survive"
I will.

A Cool, Rainy, Fall Morning

As it fell
Upon my house
Against my window
And, frankly, on my soul.

I should tell:
The dirt remained
The pane? More opaque.
And the pain? All too whole.

It can pelt
But also heal
Or lift awesome ships.
But not today. Instead:

What I felt
A subtle pull
Growing each moment
To drag me back to bed.