song.s.

my love song
was really my work song.
you were a craven
and made me dig, toil,
and labor.

my love song
was really my hurt song.
some dead thing,
no turn or stems.
full up with fossil life,
full up with what was.

my love song
was really my fear song.
your tongue.
your hand.
you.
cold.
me,
living in this risky,
delicate place.

my love song
was really my horror song.
i did nothing but fear
and cower for the moment
that you wouldn't be here.

my love song
was really my death song.
a dirge and march with no music.
my spirit,
my hopes,
dreams.
there. dead. cuffed up
into your passions.

my love song
became my end song.


Jason Christopher Johnson