i keep getting the numbers wrong
five steps in
ten steps back
is cracking at the weight of expectations
maybe i should let this run its course
deeper than dolphin water
i am breaking an entering
shielded gray and you don’t have the please of perhaps.
do you know what i’ve sacrificed to be here?
but maybe it’s nothing
maybe you’re history in the making
and i should let you
write yourself out
while i write myself in
defeated and weary
love means nothing but now after all.
sweet things aren’t just sweet things
another one is, yes, one more
little morning affections keep me
awake at night
and my legs hurt
someone, after this much walking
will want to whisper something sweet too.
don’t forget the arms that hold you
are the same that have taken
men and women down on their bellies.
lighters and drinks are all
in good graces
but i can walk away
with more than blood on my hands.
think of that
next time you try to rope me in
“And to this day, the sun has never said to the Earth, You owe me.”
but what if i’m the moon –
would you still trace your fingers
around my craters and find them
or is the space between your nerves around
perhaps im not comfortable.
maybe my arms are too heavy
and my grip too strong.
maybe my elbows are too sharp
maybe i have too much too many things.
too many people
i’m to resentful too young too naive.
The fucking nerve
Maybe there’s a cynicism to heartbreak
Maybe this is where the balance tips the scale.
These arms that held me so warmly
I’m aching to break free –
Back to her, back the them,
Back anywhere, really.
And you’ve done a poor job,
At setting expectations.
Disappointment is the least patient of my furies.
And dearest, she’s already growing away from you.
You were only supposed to be
A notable alternative
To the best option at hand
But I can’t lie.
These arms have held me
Than any fortune
Has ever tried.
Between sorrow and fame,
What if we go all the way?
You know nothing –
You know more, you see more
Than I could wish for.
Perhaps this is the way it all unravels
Perhaps you will never know
The mess I’ve made of our story
Perhaps you will only know the joy
The laughter, the tenderness
The adoration which you’ve harbored,
You will never know,
My eyes were once kelidoscope,
You will look at me, and only see
Your reflection mirrored back.
You’re not wrong.
You’ve been the only one,
To take the leap,
You’ve taken me in full.
Perhaps this IS our fortune
Our story will only be happy
There will be no ending.
On second thought
Perhaps I held on
To the ropes holding my undoing
That I may be
More wise than happy
Is only fair
As long as we enthrall
In the kindness of all wethrawls