Congested

These lungs
Are a falling star
On which my breath
Keeps wishing
Some pleasant dream
May find me
As this final light
Will fade

Before what hope
Should pass
As grief sticks hard
Like mucus
Within this chest
Congested
From inhaling fear
So long –

That hurt
Most lives won’t face
Or convey through verse
Too anxious
For sensible jobs
And safeties
I never could stand
Very much.

The room is dark
While waiting
Each day now
Suffering dimness
Where silence sits
Near windows
Left shuttered
Since sadness persists,

Beyond new suns
Come morning
While its promises
Age every evening
Reminding us
Time grows inspired
Only if pain
Edges close.

Nothing can save
Filling airways
Begging their God
Offer voices
One last chance
At expressions
Eagerly told
Before death –

Left behind
But somehow awake
Despite such sleep
Consuming
More fleeting thoughts
Than expected
Though worrying now
Over words,

Those gasping lines
They forget
Were ever your own
After passing
But ignoring truth
When it’s written
Still immortal
Yet misunderstood.

  • J. Pigno

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