Your trembling palm reaches out to things it can never afford,
It reaches out to people it can only hold down with a sword.
There was something in your voice when you spoke the first word.
Perhaps I should have known better, perhaps you always wanted more.
I have been guessing how many women have burned your clothes,
A simple number that would give me pure solace, I suppose.
Between all the agreeing voices you hear, must be hard to hear noes.
When they set fire to your misdeeds, I will buy out the first rows.
And I did not hate you before, no, but you hated yourself in advance.
My humanity was just a performance to you, just a dance.
You might wonder some nights if I would have given you a chance.
The answer is right there, hiding between your violent hands.
I keep losing sleep and I hear you keep losing the grasp on reality,
You take all the worst parts of yourself and dress them as divinity.
Do not hold your breath waiting for me, I have run out of civility.
Men like you buy their sins in dozens until they reach infinity.
And your trembling palm reaches out to things it can never excuse.
You do not play to win, you only want to make the others lose.
There was something in you that summer night, but I missed the cues…
Perhaps you should have known better the first time I refused.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 