The ways of love are tricky to ascertain
and I’ve wasted too many years trying to wrap my head around things I can never understand.
I keep chasing happiness but find myself stumbling,
hanging over the edge, trying to cling to those fleeting moments that bubble up as laughter,
ascend and float away.
My new found hope melts as cotton candy on tongue
and once again death is so close I can feel it’s breath on the back of my neck.
Words have a way of burrowing under my skin and I descend again into despair
as I am reminded of all that I am not…
all that I should have been.
The pain is to just too real to pack away with past grievances.
Too real to disregard.
I’m a loser,
but not in the way that you think.
I’m a loser insomuch as I cannot win.
So today is the 12th day of NAPoWriMo 2020! I said i would write a poem each day for the moth of April….and I missed the last couple days. So I decided I could keep beating myself up and call myself a failure and just give it up OR I could play catch up…which is what I’m going to do! So here is my poem for day 10:
“I’m okay,” I say to you
as much as to myself
and neither of us believes it
as my voice is rough from tears
but “you’re alive and that’s a good thing” is your gentle reassurance
and that will have to do for now
things have been better
but boy have they been worse
things are different or is it me who is different?
either way we always get through it somehow
who was it that said, “the more things change the more they stay the same?”
“Screw you, lover boy.”
I’ve said it in my head so many times
You break my heart each midnight
& come to mend it again each noon
I’m so sick of the same old song and dance
and you have been given chance after chance
but you refuse to learn a different tune
Now I’ve lost the will and the desire to fight
See, you’ve tied me up and hung yourself
with the very same length of rope
I’m finally standing up for myself
“Forgive you?” This time, it’s a nope!
“Screw you, lover boy.”
You’ve finally crossed my lines
oh woe is the state of me
am I beyond repair?
if’t be true mine heart lies at the city centre
wherefore doth it not get along with its neighbor brain
which dwells near by in northern suburb?
thoughts after all bringeth forth emotion
and though synapse art wearied and has’t suffered damage
they doth still transit thither
***I asketh thee, please forgive mine feeble attempts at sounding “Shakespearean” and the resulting butchery.