Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
You got what you want from me,
A hit,
Just enough to satiate
Your need,
But it’s not me
Or her,
Or her,
Ever,
It’s the chase,
The thrill
Of getting it,
Adoration;
You crave,
When each one caves
And in our caves, you sneak,
So willingly allowed
For love is our aim,
But surprise!
It’s all
Just
An illusion.
I want to break down
These walls we’ve erected,
That I laid the first brick of,
I want to call and apologize
And tell you how I really feel,
Still;
Leave nothing unsaid.
But I don’t and I won’t;
Still,
Something reminds me,
I’m obstinate;
And I often do what I feel,
Against best advice
My favorite songs
Are my self-fulfilling prophecies:
I like him,
He likes me,
But we’ve got baggage,
And he’s got a “her”,
Again;
Incompatibility
From the start
But damn it was love and passion
And heart,
It wasn’t a lie
Until we both turned,
Claiming “too hard to try” anymore,
Your fault,
My fault,
Confused;
Tears and anger coincide
I want to hate you,
Want to have you
want to love you,
To again collide;
But they say it’s too late,
Too much said and done,
Both burned
too many times
My heart knows love,
It once knew it was loved in return,
But then life threw daggers at each others hearts,
And confused the source:
The cause and reason,
Blame my illness,
And I blame yours;
Fault jobs,
And money,
Close quarters,
Distance,
And meddling,
Thus, so much has been laid bare,
Exposing the sinewy complicated beneath,
And the heal seemed impossible.
Until we separated,
Like angry children
Once best friends;
And life,
Through the child,
forces us back again,
And our differences and the past
Start to seem like a cruel illusion,
But the tears
And the hurt of separation is all too real,
Tangible in each trembling heartbeat,
I mourn the loss of my lover,
But I agonize over the loss of my best friend.
Healing is bittersweet,
It is hope with a tinge of pain,
The sting of loss,
Healing a heart is beautiful,
And sorrowful
With loss amidst the challenge
Of facing the unknown,
It is an escape room,
With the excitement from
The fear itself,
In a contained space,
The heart beats for what was,
The familiar,
And fears even the beauty of a fresh start,
Facing that conflict
is where the healing happens,
A heart is stitched together, bringing opposite sides together
Cry for what was,
But not for what could have been,
Because it wasn’t;
But there is a “will be”
On the horizon,
If you will let it come
To be.
I can do bad
All by myself,
I heal once you’ve gone,
Hurt only in the knowledge
Of how I was played,
It was the audacity you had,
To take a good woman’s worth and affection,
And treat it as low as you could go,
I don’t need you in order to feel bad,
Damnit,
I am bad,
Badass,
Too good for what I’ve been picking,
And in my own due time, I’ll find
One,
Grown worthy of attention that is mine.
She of Letters 