A Fair Fight

Fearing, as I do,

That saturation of fear itself,

Familiar as the back of my worn hands,

Cornering my love,

And choking it's breath away,

I ask myself now,

To step in between those two bodies,

Each bearing the scars,

Of the others' resistance.


Reading, as I should,

Those pages old and cluttered,

Bound in the dead skin of my past self,

Drenched in teardrops commissioned by survival,

That defined my old existence,

I want myself to,

Remember each note hidden,

In-between the lines, scribed in messy italics,

And, through the power of honesty,

Gain insight,

Into how to prevent a death.