Fear (national poetry month 25/30)

(saved for private reading only) 

 

The fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself

the gifts are given only to the bold 

and by not taking a hold of the moment 

we inevitably create our own despair

It’s the inaction

or the half action 

that leads to what is, slipping away

like oily fingers 

you shoulda dried them fingers baby

before you took hold

shoulda never paused 

to say

I love you. 

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