For every hour spent performing wickedness,

I need an hour to think about what I've done

And savor it.

Little birds can fill a long wire,

But eventually, that wire runs on, alone.

This solitary creature loves nothing as she loves your name.

Your silence.

Your distance.

You are the thing that will not open, but might,

And so my nails, and my mood, are often jagged.

For every hour spent performing wickedness,

Take a minute for the one who loves the wicked-doer

And savor her.

Little attentions can buy long devotion,

But eventually, that devotion needs more.

Stay away just one day too long,

Judge it wrong,

And you'll find out how much I love my solitude--

Not more than you, my dear,

But more than waiting.


ellen abbott said…
ooo, yes, more than waiting.
Mama Zen said…
Oh, I love those first three lines!
mac said…
Like MZ above me, I love the first three lines.

That ought to take me to 90 anyway ;-)
Riot Kitty said…
Nicely done. The nails/mood bit especially.
Lynn said…
Stay away just one day too long. That is a very telling line.
The Grandpa said…
Very nicely done.
signed...bkm said…
This is a wonderful piece Fireblossom, your poetry is very insightful to human nature - real and honest..devotation has a way of being forgetful after time...and if one waits to long even family can forget one was born...living and loving goes in two directions...you captured it well here.....bkm
TALON said…
The last two lines are so much more than a warning...more than a threat...more a statement of fact. Even the most patient become less so in time.
Ileana said…
I love the last verse because it shows awareness and self love...and that you're not going to continue to put up with any of her bullshit!
Cloudia said…
you are for effortlessly real
Mojo said…
The last verse? Incredible!

Love it. Just love it. "Not more than you, but more than waiting."


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