I am not an enigma,

Just a quiet soul sifting through the colors

Searching for a resting place.


I know the mania I derive from a coffee cup

Is not the same as sliding a needle into my vein

I know this but

We all play different games.


We were children of the dark.

We are from a cool August morning

With mist rolling over the bay

Obscuring a gentle white sun

We play while others stay inside.


I am not an enigma.

I bait sin like everyone else.

I will sit waiting for your footsteps on my porch.


I know that this vast grey ocean of mine

Is not your raw black cave.

My desperate slap splash on the water

Is not your mute finger tracing in the dust.


I know this.

I know this but

You reached for me first.

Now it’s your turn to

Grab my outstretched hand.


Don’t tell me you’re broken.

Because people don’t break, only

Sticks, and bones but they

Fuse back together on their own.

We can set you in a cast and let you regrow.

Don’t tell me it’s too late.


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