(i miss
days lying on
the floor of your
mother’s house

arms to
the ceiling to read
cool books from bilbo)

everything was simple then: black or white

you believe or you don’t, in justice or
cause and effect, in each
other; you love or you
don’t love & if
you don’t
love
you
say

“i do not love”

you
say
love
isn’t enough
left to fight for, you
etch words into covers
of books like tattoos you scraped
into the skin, kiss the blood that seeps
out; it’s one or the other, comfort the body

you scarred or abandon the cause altogether

Filed under: poems Tagged: blood, books, friendship, growth, home, learning, love, loyalty, poem, poetry, trust, violence