Burn the hours down.
The morning doles out
a symphony of reasonable requests,
like patience.
I have none.
I want to smile without having to
borrow it from
my gut.
--- Ka’Mone Felix
Nocturne
most nights, my smiles
are a lot like
a string of stars,
scattered and
distant, flung out
in the distance,
tiny, white dots
far, and yet connected,
to collect them all
might take a while
but this doesn’t mean
I’m unhappy
every night is a mile
on this road my soul’s traversing,
a patchwork in the dark
for all the brightness my
life’s rehearsing,
I long to be a flame
even in the blackest
of moments,
hiding shame to shine
even when the
best days are
denial
because joy
never comes easy,
and I still fear that
most of these
smiles will
leave me
breath held, waiting
for something that
my insides will only find
a means to omit
but I don’t want to let this
break me
one day, my smiles will be
less of these awkward tremors
that stem
from the earthquake of nerves
in my chest,
less defense mechanism,
more sign of healing,
my nights will be peaceful
my days, unstressed,
but until then
I am this open wound
that bleeds out night
its silent air blankets
my not quite right
and causes me to long
for that moment, when
these hours
no longer
burn
Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet
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