Things I’m So Tired Of

I’m always surprised at the feeling
when I lay this body down.
In my head, I still feel 19,
I feel 23,
I feel 35.
Where’d this extra decade sneak in?

But my head, settling on the pillow,
contains epochs of fear and grief,
desperation and dull aches of sorrow,
(Even without that extra layer of lies
my illness spreads across the top
like an oil slick).


David Wilcox on shadow & light

“In this scene set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us
But it’s love that wrote the play…”

David Wilcox
(lyrics from Show The Way)

My Wounded One

Oh, my
wounded one, how
I ache for you;
I have no balm, 
no release,
no redemption to offer.

You close your
window-shade eyes and
the storm wails black
inside you;
you fear it makes you trite,
but the rain inks down your face
when you think I can't see.

At my touch
you recoil: 
no comfort there;
I know you think yourself

My sad one,
please hear just these
three questions, from
one casualty
to another:

How can I show you
you're bowed, but not

How can I show you strength 
when I'm damaged goods

How can I turn your face
toward tomorrow?

I may not 
believe in it yet, either,
but when daylight comes,
you'll wake to find me 
here beside you.

(C) 2014 by Rosetti C.
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