My Skin Peels in Petals

A foggy Christmas day.

Thin from the secret sun behind the gray

And my eyes are tired from straining to see nothing

Hiding from tomorrows, haunted by yesterdays

I can’t help but think things are wrong because of me

And the small things are rough 

The little things few and in-between 

Cause when you’re keeping yourself company

Your thoughts are scoured, not skimmed

And you flip back the pages to read them again

Papers unbounded, fluttering in the wind

Escaping to sand and sea.

My solitude, my courtroom, my church

My life, by the SM pier, shrouded by night

My toes, wriggling in the wet sand

My boots, soaked through in trials of crisis

My knees, bending to the sea

My saltwater, wandering down my cheeks

My breath, baited till I wade to shore

And I’m doing fine.

I know this, you know this 

Everyone knows this.

There is no proof to the contrary.

But people believe in God

And there’s no real proof of Him either.