i scrolled through
the book
of poetry
that bears my name
to see the words
that bare my soul
reading them
for the first time
since they ran
from brain
to finger
to screen

i tried to separate
myself
from the self
that selfishly scribbled
the odes
to a she
i dared not dream
as anything
but metaphoric release
from a meteoric descent
into the harsh light
of actuality

it’s funny
how the wisps
of soul
evaporate
from the shell
when given
to a world
that cares not
to receive it
yet rings true
in a way
that still cause
flashes of pain
as it is absorbed
back through
the cornea
of doubt

(un)poetic, available now