In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.
ODD KENIn the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.
ODD KENBreathe in the pain and bring out the wounds. It’s only a process and you’ll learn to survive the rest.
ODD KENI’ve seen it, I know it too; love still dances in the fire after the rescue.
ODD KENPain is never too weak to leave the body still standing or laughing the same.
ODD KENAnd when the cold comes, I swear I can feel her in my bones.
ODD KENTo me there was only ever you!
ODD KENJust as it demands blood, to meet bone, It’ll forever take something painful to understand pain.
ODD KENRespect pain. Every heartfelt word is first born from sadness.
ODD KENLike a fractured bone in the ribs, the heart can be painfully heavy sometimes.
ODD KENThese sharp edges you left behind, they cut so deep; and I guess maybe I am just not dying enough.
ODD KENAfter healing I’ll run back to her – of course this poem demands a brutal ending!
ODD KENTo heal is to be constantly reminded that once you learn to punch, you die with blood on your wrist.
ODD KENI can sing love; only I’m afraid the lyrics might get shattered again.
ODD KENI’ve been to the countryside a couple of times. Somedays it is all wood and grass and empty. Other days it feels like you!
ODD KENPlease the night’s cold, not her name again!
ODD KENI’ve been quiet most of today. By which I mean I can see myself in the mirror; And believe me it is something hard to look at these days.
ODD KEN