"when my pains get old" Written by Michael F. Lewis

when my pains get old

on nights like this
when my own pains are not enough
when i stop believing in all of my disappointments
that pushed and kicked me down this road
when my pains get old
and they no longer make me shake
with fear, dread or sadness
after i get comfortable and realize
that i am too tired to feel them anymore
i need your pain on nights like this
your pain is new and presses deep into my chest
i watch you cry and tremble and i hold you
and i cry and tremble and break
and through these fissures
soak in the feelings that i stop feeling long ago
when my pains get old I have tried
to fill the void with sex
or writing
or aimless conversations with content strangers
i’ve tried alcohol and pacing through
crowded streets at night
walking past heavy sunken eyes in alleyways
taking it all in and keeping the images
always in awe at the way the downtown
gritty streets paint themselves all over me
everyone flowing by possessed by a sense of purpose
with serious focus, even when they’re laughing
in groups, they plod along like a pack of ants
over forgotten cracks and blackened gum
off to the bar, or work
or pushing a shopping cart with only three wheels left
full of treasures and recycling
or off to nowhere at all
just going like their lives depended on it

equally i feel peace and awe on the grass
on the hillside where i watch the hawks below
sweeping low, patiently riding the breeze
with cool sweat on my skin from the climb
and rest in the shade
reciting phrases for later
i’m not empty, but sometimes i miss
the overwhelming urgent crush of devastation and failure
like when you are young
you strive for so much, for your ideal
sprinting toward a goal
or sacrificing for perfect love
wrestling with the guilt of your sins
your passion yearning to be heard
above all the clanging and din
there is so much pain
you put yourself
under so much pressure that life leaks out
squeezed in thick red drops
and you know that there is life inside you
you can see it making a mess of things like a crime scene
but i have tried to make peace with the incorrigible
recognized the absurdity of the bane
forgiven my past sins and accept the sins i willingly commit
and i understand this also
i love broken things most of all
i need you
on nights like this
when my pains get old

Michael F. Lewis
3/11/2013