A Poem Begins As A Lump In The Throat, A Sense Of Wrong, A Homesickness, A Lovesickness.

wet evening in April by Patrick Kavanagh

Liberty and Fifth, Pittsburgh, ca. 1940

— Carolina Outcrop

Wara! 2023 - oil on canvas — Krzysztof Powałka (Polish, b.1985)

https://www.instagram.com/k.powalka_oilpaintings

-filmythings

My jaw has unhinged itself again.

And I am shedding my skin.

It flakes off in small pieces,

revealing the delicate newness within

You don’t like the way your hair sits? Take mine, I will shear it off without a second thought.

Take my eyes so you may see through them just how beautiful you are.

Take my lungs, that you should never gasp for air.

You’re not comfortable in your skin? Take mine, I will strip it from my body just to see you smile.

My heart is already yours, it has been beating to the sound of your name ever since I first heard it uttered. Take it, it is more yours than it ever was mine.

Take my muscles. May they make you strong enough to never need another.

I will give and give of myself until I am nothing but a meager pile of brittle and broken bones.

Take them. May they be of more use to you than I ever could have been.

objects in art: swords/daggers