p r a y e r. a n d. p r o s e.

can you help me
reach out to touch you
because frankly
I have not the strength

can you help me
be held
because frankly
I'm too stubborn

can you help me
be loved
because frankly
I know not of
its tenderness
nuances
warmth
recklessness
fullness

can you help me?

I write
because I need to remind myself
of your love
that I cannot see.

I need you to fill me
because without you
I melt

sit me still,
so I can breath,
your presence unravelling me,

cover me,
completely
so I can breath.

i stare into my page,
in attempts to capture me,
to put my soul onto canvas.

i sit still,
echoes of what she said
about what I write
if she's right,
i know not.

But when I pen as so,
the trees inside me breath,
the world spins,
and I can feel my own humanity.

dribble
dragon blood breach my hands
dragged dazed
plunge 'gainst dirt,
grunge n' all,
fallen.

For a second,
I remember my redeemer.

I call out into the distance.
Maybe I'll be heard.
Maybe somebody from afar with strike me with praise.

But what of his touch?
What of something more?