I put my hands together
in supplication
—just this once—
let me get what I wanted
or what I thought I neededIf I could pray or
if heaven could lend
its ear to my weak voice
—I's say one thing—
I am not asking for much
just maybe leftoversI've spent most my life
not being given love
people said I deserve
—so please—
I am not asking for much
but leftover loveI've spent too much time
looking at people who prosper
—at the people who had
what I wanted
I think to myself—
if they have it
perhaps, I can too
—but I've been staring
at the pedestal long enough
to utter a prayer
under my breath
—please—
I am not asking for much
but leftover fulfillment
of the dreams I hadSo I put my hands together
in supplication
—just this once—
let me get what I never had
for so long
—please—
I am not asking for much
but for leftover time
—leftover rhyme—
leftover life
YOU ARE READING
an adjournment of scars, an endearment of stitches
Poetry❝𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢�...