The Staircase by the Sea

I have been here before.
I remember the cold splinters
beneath bare feet,
The crumbling plastered walls,

The desk where I sat and
exposed myself to darkness and
medicated with spent cigarettes,
This box where I stopped

to carve an oath into my arms.
I remember the promises
I made to myself, never
to be broken, never to fail

(except I did, thrice.)
Here in this opened cell
I was branded and scarred,
Reborn and disfigured,

Pushed to the bottom of
the red velvet staircase.

eastney beach


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