For a time I had stopped
Writing poems,

Forgetting those days
Feeling broken

And ignoring my past
Spent on fringes
Of the world whose gaze
Never cared.

That era is now
Nearly done –

All eyes can resume
Their fixation,

Yet again
As man’s nature intended
Or how fate must imply
Truth exists.

Once more
This affliction will show,

Life’s disturbance claimed
Through engagement
With no audience gained
But disaster
Behind closed doors
Being shared –

An addictive gift
Growing cursed
Through resuming pain
Always worth it
When eternally banned
From enjoyment
Like real love once found
Getting lost.

I’m heavier still
Than I was
Both inside and out
If you’re looking,

Making each new line
Short confessions
To the priest whose God
Doesn’t hear –

Ruining long nights
Needing less sleep
While enjoying life
Hardly working,

Wasting precious years
Seeking answers

Though relaying dreams
Sorely missed.

• J. Pigno