Tender Battles

Your purpose is to fly
in a cold air that bites.
There isn’t an ounce of
want for a bitter fight.

A world makes you cold
but you bury it down
into all extremities deep
where there is no sound.

You hold a head down
and receive your assaults.
You forgive all meanness
as if a grain of salt.

You perspire a rainbow
for your soul is beauty.
You take on all of spite;
to fix it you feel a duty.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. eob2 says:

    These words are tender in verse. Nicely done.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. J.Michael says:

      Thank you Elle. I appreciate you.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. eob2 says:

        You’re welcome. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s