Yield

I lay myself like harvested wheat

over and over again

before men hungry for reaping,

and every time I remain stiff and sullen

under their graceless hands,

their base maneuverings

leaving me dulled when once

I was afire with possibility.

Is this how it is to be loved?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: