Fresh Out

From desk to desk, top bunk and cot to low bed under new fan.

I return no less, yet only that much more a man, I am.

I love and loved, my heart a public pulley.

I’ve pushed and shoved, been victim, perhaps. Been bully.

I cringed and cried in silence, and aloud I sang “Forgiveness please!”

Bled, punctured from the ethers trident. Bowed, and counted my sinless deeds.

I questioned “Why now!? So close, so far! Can I not reach out to call?”

Yet for no answer, I clenched my open scars, as pain rendered me to my knees to crawl.

The message that I have received, would seem on time if t’were not late.

She sings to me, and sad I grieve, to see her beauty strong, and soft, and slate.

My affection, and my service I gave her time and time on end.

I pity me then. How worthless, I bade her mine, and pined and primed.

And though my Ruby has returned, her sorrow grips me still.

Yet for my duty, pray I earn tomorrow’s lips be frill.

Yes, from my Ruby, nay I’ll turn. Tomorrow’s lips be frill.