Unwritten Poetry

Hell-bent on repentance

I dug up my past

-a stack of confessions

in black ink and metaphors-

my religion,

true and false,

unstructured and incomplete.


Forgotten in the pages was

a decade-old whispered poem

to a future lover,

the writer of words and dreamer of dreams

who could make me believe

his theories of history and heaven

and me.


I wanted to write him poetry while the world burned

through its tribulation


but you only like poems that rhyme.



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