If I could make amends
I’d say I’m sorry.
You’ve been digging a six-foot hole
in the ground, searching
through the perpetual bore
I opened the gateway
laying a foundation of
glass pipes beneath your house.
Under your mattress
I built the tracks
for the freight train
to derail, colliding
with your fragile unblemished world
I was the bomb
beneath the bridge.
Your path to peace of mind
slipping through your fingers.
The only thing I’d let you grasp
was fear of letting go of me
I opened your eyes
to keep you from dreaming
of open doors
I am the pain masquerading
pleasure
the reason you’re ashamed
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