I would have-
I would have.
I would have
Acted on those words you finally said.
But you
Wouldn’t have.
Or couldn’t have
Or at the least
Didn’t.
I would have,
But you didn’t.
And the words
Were just a little
Too late.
Our thoughts harmonize
The same ideas
In different octaves
Blending together
In beautiful union
Quirks complementing
The chorus line
Each taking care
That the duet
Never stray to a solo
For longer than a breath
Between kisses
Nobody thinks I’m invincible anymore, not one person. Or at least, I can’t imagine how they could. In the past, scores of people examined my hectic life and my temperament in the face of injustice, and concluded I must be perfect, sweet, indefatigable. Nobody thinks so anymore, for under duress, I have the habit of humanizing myself.
Empathy causes me to trust sooner than, in retrospect, I, paranoid as I am, should be allowed to. I trust and then I confidingly reveal the secrets that make me distraught when I am alone. And though at the time my confidant and I are mutually indebted, slowly our congeniality fades. Soon enough, I am left with yet another person who sees through my calm appearance and measures my flimsy pretexts.
Nobody thinks I’m invincible anymore because inevitably, in the midst of late night conversation, I admit not only to my mortality but to my sinfulness. I am not only fatigable but also corrupt; my optimism is often superficial. Nobody thinks I’m invincible anymore because innocently, stupidly, when I let my guard down I admit, just as I am admitting now, to my own imperfection.
So they thought I was invincible. They thought I would save the world or at least help finish their homework. They thought I would take everything with a grin and a too-loud-laugh. They thought I was stable and confident and sweet. They thought I was perfect and indefatigable. They thought.
Until I broke down, then they knew better.
Carbon copy
Bled though from
The original
And ripped off
Permanent markers
Made to
Make a mark
Writing all over
My past
And editing history
To match
The new color scheme
Racing
Pacing
Hurrying through
A slow-motion world
That never the less
Endeavors
To run faster than me
You don’t care about anyone else
Or so you say
But I know you are lying
Either to the world
Or to yourself
You do care about someone else
Even several others
But am I someone?
Static
Juxtaposed
And diametric
Is my desire
Beautiful
But scorned as
Unaesthetic
Is my desire
Overcome
I turn instead
To an anesthetic
To numb and forget
But desire
Can’t be stored
Behind a hermetic
Seal.
Pulsing sharpness
At the intersection
Of vein and muscle
A throbbing knot
Commanding my attention
Perhaps
Forecasting the near future
Or maybe
Just representing
The flaws of my worry-wartness
Guarded
Is the easiest look to read
Trying so hard not to let you see
But that “I know,”
Is itself a slightly too fast
And possibly biting response
That says what other words will not
And during the interim of floor-staring
My guarded look may be decoded
To reveal what you
Already suspected
Be a pillow
Let me rest on you
People exist
And sometimes
I need to ignore them
As badly as you do
So take my hand
Be my pillow
Stroke the hair out of my eyes
And hold me tightly to your chest
Let me rest on you
