Penultimate

Feeling a little exposed like the blue sky today

I unbuttoned my shirt made out of 

My self respect and left it on the floor. 
And now you stand before my naked self,

As you are about to speak

Of the horrors that unveil 

Through marks and bruises 

You see on me. 
There’s a warmness in words,

Of a certain kind

Like the tropical suburbia 

I have found in my mothers eyes
As I open my mouth try to 

Deliver dry pleasantries

In form of small talk,
You stop,

Raise your hand

And before I can speak

You slide your hand down

My wind pipe

And reach towards my heart

You want to hold it in your

Hands 
You caress it

With gestures

You tell it

That it’s going to be alright
And now you’re staring

right Into my eyes 

You tell them to be kind

Because the world

Is longing for such eyes
Your hand caresses my stomach,

Tells the churning to stop

Because the over acidity

Might start devouring my insides
Now you hold my shoulders

You massage them 

And you ask,

How come they don’t ache

From carrying the weight of the world.

But my bones crackle

That the sound of your voice 

Isn’t that the sign 

That they have been tired for far too long? 
And now you’re on your knees

You hold my legs

And say 

What a wonderful life it has been, 

Yet I shouldn’t be getting tired

For now the journey isn’t over
It’s a long way home, 

It’s a long way home.