It’s my fault
I missed
when I try to reach for you
Misread you
Mislead you
I try
Disguise the feel,
I lie
But, don’t ever want
to strip
and free - peel
Sweet roses in sweet
gardens
have to deal with
the sharpness
of my tongue -
and pain
Never dream of ever deceiving you
Just don’t know how to
be open
Knife sliced into my chest
and wide open
Weight carried within my psyche
Put down
Gazing into all my rests
Why do I matter?
When does the cycle build again?
I believe in abundance
But, I, am the exception
Why do I want brand new, private, minutes
How could you ever
want years of me?
Natural, loving human kindness
Feels like I’m a monster
demanding you serve
Invite you, with sharp glory,
for the reprieve
Showing new wounds
Showing emotion behind
my scars
How do people do that?
unevenly, over
the cuts
becomes sour
You, bitter,
tasteless
With the scandal of my
own volition
and it becomes ours
Layers of letting you in,
indecision
I apologise for bleeding
You wanted to paper up cracks
with romance
Not watch acid pour into
-and dissect - my heart
In the revolution
does the tang ever make
way for, even a partial, solution?
Do I ever, even, relax?
What do I have to gain?
Bitter, not full of pain
Just envy
In my paper-thin
Tough wall of confusion
You, hanging your head in shame
Years of tissue forming,
unevenly, over
the cuts
Papering the cracks
Becomes the story of us
You wonder why
I foresee, from the beginning
Torturously threading the needle
For the pain
Forming, re-sealing, revealing
Maybe we were the wrong show
to begin with
I pushed through
Sharp pain - known
The wilt at the end of the act
Reach for sweetness
Get sour all the same
Comments