What Have You Done

Do not tell me what you have done
For I saw you, as clear as day
But I will let you have your fun

There and back you constantly run,
To Hester’s cottage is what you say
Do not tell me what you have done

If your parents knew, they would shun
For if they knew where you sometimes lay
But I will let you have your fun

The guilt you carry must weigh a ton
For your sake I kneel down and pray
Do not tell me what you have done

I ponder should I fetch my gun
I swear to god, someday you’ll pay
But I will let you have your fun

Tell me, what should I tell our son
About the hearts you keep and love to play
Do not tell me what you have done
But I will let you have your fun

Found Poem

As if I’m not under a mysterious voodoo,
I was a one man show of diesel fuel and Copenhagen.
And now so refined,
so lost in a tangerine joy.
I have become something of a peach parfait,
as if I kneel before thee with arms outstretched.
Helplessly soft, honorably vulnerable.
China glaze reinvents itself upon my eyes,
teetering on the edge of silver ice and red velvet.
Romeo and Juliet would revel upon the boom of our heartbeats.
Mothers would swoon, Fathers would chuckle,
café waitresses would whisper in tight quarters about my contradiction.
Recovery is not an option,
for I am sold.
I may re- load, but never again will I possess the same firepower I did.
The horizon is too bright, the luminous moon is too tempting, and the black is now something blue.