Picking petals

off a bouquet of red carnations.

He loves me not, he loves me not.

Pleasures last until they die,

or they kill you.

Youth blackens in the flesh.

You're 30. Then you're 40.

Roll the window down.

The clouds and the countryside

don't make you feel at all

like they used to.

Every decade comes on

quicker than the last

like labor pains.

The man you never said you loved

has blue eyes like the winter.

Passion becomes snowmelt

when the sun crowns the hills.

Each year his smile deepens.

Once he seemed immune to fear.

In April he held your hand—

but your heart kept right on beating.

There was no quickening.

No magic words.

Love me not, forget me not.

No incantation ever uttered

to bring the living

back to life.

You speak of being offended by toxic positivity as you sit there in your Carhartt beanie choking down a chai latte.

As if you knew the impact of a “you should smile more.” Or “it can’t be that bad, cheer up!”

when you’ve just had your lip split open by a baseball bat. You never had blood gushing from your brow on the wet pavement or the world reject you. You have never known the courage it takes to stand up and start again with nothing but your integrity.

The worst thing that has ever happened to you was not getting exactly what you wanted from a phone call to mommy.

So yeah, fuck you and your entire facade. Trying to coin sympathy from a phrase that you could never possibly understand.

Left to rot on the steps of the cathedral.

Blood boiling in the morning

sun.

White silk stained by years of running.

Fingers cut and bruised by the dishonor of others.

A pound of flesh for Jesus,

weighed in mojo bags

by beggars and thieves.

The Egyptians believed the most

important thing you could do in

your life was die.

An eye for an eye.

A tooth for a tooth.

Akhenaten standing

righteous in a hollow tomb.

The real face of Moses

easily plundered

and disfigured by time.

The boy king deceived by high priests.

Sodomised and murdered by sick belief.

Nothing new under the sun.

Wisdom cannot be tested against ignorance and greed.

So the Towers fall one by one.

As I burn here praying on the steps of the cathedral.

To a God known by none.

Dear Sexy Word People:

Here's a quick feature for some requests from the Prose. profile inbox. Speaking of which, if any pieces, or writers in general, do it for you, and you want them featured, write in with the Prose. link attached, and we'll feature it if we can.

The Challenge of the Month XLII video is on the way next.

Here's the link for the quickie today.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_GE3rW7sPE

And.

As always...

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team