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.