Author: Stephan Reed

Self-Assurance

He warms your hand, baby.
Your names in the sand, baby.
He warms your hand, baby.
A good man to a better lady.

Find me under rubble,
Buried by staring daggers.
Troubled by your silence.
Ready for new disaster.

Let nacreous grace engulf reality
And illustrate a novel landscape.

I’ll tend to these struggling roots,
And let loose one last dove,
In hope my anguish finds you.
And this broken branch is enough.

“Don’t mistake those oncoming lights
For a rarefied solar flare.
And don’t mistake a solar flare
For an insurmountable sign from God.”

I tried to mend them;
Your pickets, your posts.
But I can’t outlast him;
His ambit, his ghost.

Some people like storms.
I like people – & storms inside of them.

Please. Burn with me.
Intentionally, without hesitation.
Spread my ashes.
Exhale your pain & let’s dance again.

It’s not like me to look away from a good thing.
But I’m blinding myself with these dream nights & daydreams.

It’s a stark, welcome truth;
A universe of controlled chaos.
Tortured beauty, stained-glass grace;
Torched their Lover’s deceit & beds of rot.