This marks the fourth and final excerpt for Swear To Me, out October 24th. Though all excerpts are my own work, the quality of submissions was amazing, with some of my favourite WordPress poets participating in the project. I can’t wait for you guys to see the final product, and hope you will want to.
Mental health is one of the most important tenets of our well-being, and not everyone is lucky enough to be able to channel it into something greater. I am no paragon of my craft, but I am grateful to be an advocate for this, to commemorate my late friend one final time, and to share the story of my struggle. With a little help from my friends, it only became more powerful.
When I asked my father if I could be famous, he said only the best people make it, and I would never even be good.
When I asked my mother if I had any talent, she told me only for losing balance and reading whole books in a single night.
When I asked siblings my worth, they
When I asked my peers if I had place among them, they shared a look of mockery.
When I asked past lovers what they honestly thought, they appeared shocked, as if conscience had never factored in.
When I ask dead friends, loose-fit blondes with unlit cigarettes in their palm, it’s Pandora’s box, so I’ve long stopped asking them.
But when I asked you,
beautiful human, if I was
closer to the solution, to
why all the people I loved have left me
the most ruined,
it was the first time I felt smart
enough to hear the answer,
that there was no answer,
I just refused to give up the question.
When I asked you,
the object of my affection, if I was still fluent in moral fibre, you told me “calibres higher than those who sentenced you to this train of thought.”
Until the ties that bind us rot,
the only place I want to be lost
is with you.