Friday, October 8, 2010 / 12:00 AM
If I could tip some out
some of the hurt
let it spill onto the earth
let it spill onto the pages.
Would you see it, feel it, own it?
If you could swim in the depth
of my souls water,
like rivers wild
and raindrops glisten
Would you swim upstream, for the length of the journey?
If I poured it out.
Gathered it in a vase,
added roses to it
would you just see the thorn?
Or the beauty of the flower that comes with it.