She was an unwritten poem
Scripted beneath the requiem
Of my jagged edged notebook,
Her aura disfigured my perception of
The way a rose looked,
These unwritten poems of
Burnt flowers helped me grow,
These burnt roses helped me
Rewrite what I was afraid to show,
My unwritten poems never
Defined myself worth,
These lost words escorted
Me through the maze of
Curses within this earth,
Now I’m one with the poems
That I write and relieved
From the poems that
I never wrote
– Nick F. Hawkins
Sacred Thinking 