By Steven Underwood
Numb like the first time I said I hate you,
That’s what I am,
I worshipped the wrong words we shared;
I bent the knee on brown rice and glass
And acknowledged the kinship like
The pupper lapping sweetened water from a bowl.
Neglect my sorrows once, and I will come
Neglect my tears twice, and I follow
Neglect my heart thrice, cross it, and I will die
I hope those days are over
I pray that solace into my open palms
My bare lap
And my solemn dreams.
Then maybe I can finally feel