atonement

little poem I wrote about guilt:

No, you can't smoke out the sinister things

And you can't drink away the demons

You never really beat off the bad

And there's no use in scratching at a scar

You can build things up, though,

To cover them, drape and dress them up

And set fire

Hope it's a glorious blaze – when it all goes up for good

Or keep it, keep it all

The filthy white rag of yourself

You have to look at it, crushed and damp

You can try to squeeze the ink out

The blackest bits of you

Drip, drip, drip

A reversed constellation would assemble

Cobalt freckles, flaws on tile floor

Then you would face it,

The black and white mirror at your feet

Only the ugly

And you have to look at it

You have to look because no one can look for you

At your little devils,

Damnable thoughts,

Starless

Then you'd see it – the delicate darkness

Negligible jots on an expanse of white

Such a slight stain you made

Your sins, on this infinite marble