Oh bloody potential

***

What once was loaded with so much promise of pain

carries itself still and rested.

Abandoned by its own potential.

Because potential is not about what could be

but the risk of what may never happen.

***

I missed you.

Firing all the loving motivation I could,

pulled the trigger of my tongue

and let out all killing affects.

Somehow I missed you.

Glancing your glares, my words shot passed into emptiness.

Damn.

***

Potential is the equivalent of what could be lost.

'Could' trumping all certainty, the negative effect of doubt.

So we hope.

Hope with the grip of a gun that life can be different.

And that maybe we will miss ourselves to find each other.

***

I stand wanting to be targeted by you.

Set me between your eyes, sweet shooter

and may all aim be true and blazing.

Please, I need you to kill me.

I can't even take my own life.

I'm sick of it, I don't want it, so why would I take it myself.

Please have me.

***

Potential is the buzzing middle of greatness and let down.

The moment before the smolder and the after glory unwanted.

To outrun doubt we hope.

Potentially we could fail.

Potentially we could be left, alone, in the middle of a field,

missing out on all that we hoped to hit.

***

Bloodied up, my hand reaches out to shake hands in peaceful thanks.

I no longer want to play our deadly game.

I'd rather hold you wounded.

So take a step closer,

let's throw down our arms

and open our arms.

And for the love of all things good,

lets stop bleeding all over each other.

We cannot continue to push our fingers into the bullet holes.

These wounds are mine to tend

and hopefully yours to love, if you will have them.

***

So set potential free

and live in the hope that your doubt will not harm you.

Hope to kill doubt.

Hope to steep your hands in the blood of all you hate about yourself.

Take aim at the trueness inside and let it rip.

Potentially you will live.

Photo by John Henry.  Words by Jordan Shappell