Bringing Me Coffee

And still…..there is light.

No matter how I’ve tried to hide from the shine.

Somehow, after everything,

you are still here.

Still opening the curtains

and bringing me coffee.

Still offering your hands to

to hold mine through the shaking,

Offering your soul while it shares in my aching.

Still here though you’re hurt,

though you’re tired

and worn.

You’re still willing to heal

from the rips I have torn.

Instead of telling myself that I don’t deserve it,

I will be kind and forgiving, gentle and true.

These are all things that I’ve learned from you.

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Bloody Knuckle Defeat.

Snarled lips and hair.

A storm of walking despair.

Danger crackles in the dark.

Words become weapons

and rage is my lark.

Don’t look at me,

just stay away.

Don’t talk to me.

I spit fire and nonsense and hatred.

I drank enough to put two men down

and threw myself upon the town.

Stalking down the alleyways

with all the other drunks and strays.