Reining In.

Rage and guilt are incomplete without each other.

Photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha on Unsplash

Like curtains, does heavy air fall.
Your gaiety fades like mist of past.
Lips stretched taunt, the last straw.
Pray I bear the worst of what may augur.

The impaling gaze, once floating in mellow sea.
Binds my heart in fetters of fear.
Your memories fade like mist of past.
Rage gives you impetus; follow you must.

I see the cathartic avalanche.
Tumbling down the slippery slope.
Yet, deluded by hope, I plead in futility.
Hoping you realize it’s none but me.

Yet, the first ice begins their tumble.
The inexorable tide of rage washes my pleas.
Flames engulf both you and me.
Our precious present, squander do we.

At last, the dust settles.
Weary we are of the blinding rage.
Your eyes open to weariness in mine.
Sadly, you feel the pain of regret at last.