Promise
Lend me your ears,
you film noir beauty,
with your overcast eyes
and wet paper soul.
In bed you lie
with an anvil on your chest.
Tears cling to your cheeks
like a child to his mother’s leg.
Your heart has been ripped
from its home in your ribs.
Death calls to you,
and you will cordially
reach for its hand.
With all your strength,
shove that anvil to
the ground.
Pull a tissue from the box
and wipe those salty drops
away.
Catch the culprit
who took your nirvana
and tenderly place it
back in its marrow cage.
Look Death in its
hypnotic eyes
and send it back
to oblivion.
Open the curtains
and gaze outside.
Your spirit shimmers
like the bonfire sun.
Scream to the heavens
and tell them you’re
beautiful.
Contort your thoughts
of blood oozing from
hate-pierced skin
into thoughts of
butterflies fluttering
into your velvet
paradise.
Learn from past mistakes
and embrace your
inner gypsy.
Who you were
yesterday
is not the same today.
Dance into the faithful
light of hope
and teach yourself
to fly.