Never a Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master

I lost one love out of careless intent

I opted for silence, and the hour not spent

Dialoguing tensions,

The capricious moments undedicated to solutions,

To the many convolutions that could have been unfastened,

Fumed like the smoke of this indulgent cigarette

The art of losing isn’t hard to master

There are nights I lose the battle with myself

And I wake to find my body like a corpse

Sprawled naked on kitchen tiles

Bathroom rugs, living room floors

Tossed like shells upon sea shores

The art of losing isn’t hard to master

I’ve lost possessions out of reckless abandon

Renounced to treasures that my festering brain

Has let slip between cracks

Lean fingers could never retract

From slivers too slim