pride.love.trust.joy.truth.praise.beauty. (& all the others)

pride comes to my hands expects scraps
love turns them away. she’d rather starve
trust has her pups in the pantry, she licks the wounds
not yet worn in
joy disregards me. he’s up half the night
howling to the moon
pain smiles, finally carved and broken in
beautiful at last
the flesh scrapes and hardens
only to keep eyes peeled, fruitless
and ripe
truth begs me some nights
praise knocks sunday eternities at my door
I sleep ‘til those white knuckles stain my blue dresser
leave the clothes to be damned
beauty died last night
she put up a fight
and left while she was young-

the others single file and procession with caution.