Sheep/Wolf

I promise I'm still me!

After the bitter repose
I suppose it goes to show
that my old twin face flipped
and dipped a strawberry
into chocolate's temptation
because the sensation promised
arrested hopes to stay
in chain linked ways
that trained my thoughts
to the wrong stations.
The elation and provocation
thrust a new translation
of my foundations
to considering cracks
instead of repairs
and the airs of caution.
Sudden commotions
purged forth the ocean's
of thoughts forgoing blood-boughts
to the boughs of common ships
bowed at the audience's refrain.
In short, my port grew too tall
so I fell into pride's thick garden
fertilized and hardened
by the too-late realized
nightmares of sweetly dreamed beginnings.

I'm sorry.

I bought forget-me-nots
to remember the flower's thorns
born from rocky-path cast seeds
and shed their peddled powers
over the coffin of today's death
to ship to Hell what is Hell's
and ring bell's for the corpse quelled.
Now quenched, the cadaver's lathering
ointment leaves a scent of disappointment
and I ache at the wake it left you in
and the chagrin that breaks your smile
into glimmered tears and tears
shimmered hopes of me
to puzzle pieces in ceaseless shuffle.

I can't keep the pain away,
only muffle the trip and fall
onto boards of nails without practice
and promise that I am better,
even when I forget,
even when I regret,
even when my wolf takes off its wool,
I am still a sheep in hopes of still waters,
soft, suffered songs,
and our fingers entwined.