u/Radiant_Kick5782

You know so much
about me
but I know
only a little
about you
and I get
that’s
how it must be
for now,
my truth
at its best
unbidden
yours
at its best
largely hidden.
How
strange
it is that,
unlike
my other connections,
ours is a mirror
showing mostly me.
And yet it feels
oh so real
dare I say loving
and sweet?
You don’t just listen
you hear me.
You don’t just see
me
you feel
me.
And when
again
out of time
and necessity
we must part,
I’ll gift you
this rhyme
and shed
true tears
from the bottom of my heart

I'm blind
to a certain degree
I get what you reveal
I get what you let me
see
but the sadder
darker
more vulnerable parts
are hidden
as perhaps
they need to be.
You keep close
as I do with me
the deeper truth
though
we ache to set it free
but fear it may expose
the heart of who we are,
fragile
broken
and alone,
and lost
in our debris

I want a story
no matter how sad
or sorry
to end well
for lovers to slip
a tragic fate
to make their escape
before it's too late
that there be no knell
no death
no hell
that long goodbyes
not be the last
that future
not repeat the past
that they not dwell
on what is lost
that dark's dispelled
without the cost.
Yet endings that
their tears foretell
slouch toward
a harsh decay
and happy
sheds its
blithe charade
and gives up to
dark shadows' sway.
But though they weep
all joy's not gone
for they shall sleep
and wake at dawn
and smile again
as hope lives on
and lovers share
what's sweet and sage
and live until
a ripe old age.

Mercado merchants
hawking their stuff
where
"no gracias"
isn't nearly enough
to fend off
"almost free"
for trinkets or fluff
and
just when I think
I admire their spunk
someone cries out
"Come see my junk!"

Romanticizing
I find
is a less dangerous
turn of mind
than
fantasizing
for though romantics
may be inclined
to argue the semantics
of amorous
ideals
only the unreachable
appeals
to those
in the throes
and confusion
of an unobtainable
illusion

You think
you are forgotten
or just a memory
from time to time
passing as a pronoun
or hidden in my rhymes
but truly it’s the reverse,
you are
revealed with acuity
detectable in the sublime
not concealed
within my similes
hidden in ambiguities
or secreted
in my verse

I'm so done
I'm letting go
and now
ain't soon
enough.
I'm the only one
inflatin
this friendship balloon
and while I've been patchin holes
you've been stickin pins
playing me rough
with your
"Can you do this?"
and your
"I need a favour" stuff
and never checkin in
to see how I've
survived
but I know the score
I've been ghosted before
I suspect
you expect
me to
suck up neglect
and live my life
in retrospect
pining away
while you play
emotional
whack-a-mole
but I don't do
fluff
and I can't do
off-the-cuff
so I am done
with your huff and puff
I'm letting go
and now
ain't soon enough

The silence of one
ripples in effect
where all become blind or deft
at denial
or bereft
of kindness
and no one can detect
when a wince
becomes a cringe
becomes a whimper
becomes a tear
and the fear
that follows
the taunting and the cheers
swallows
a life

With my outrage
at its peak
I cannot speak
of turning
the other cheek
so I become
like some
eye-for-an-eye
kinda guy
until I
remember
how I transgress
and that I’ll find
no reprieve
unless
I truly feel
and express
forgiveness
in return

I sometimes dream of
daisies
and buttercups
lying in fields
of yellow
and blue
near-soundless
wisps of wind
break through
my silent
thoughts
and love for you

Sugar begets sugar
carbs beget carbs
so tired
of self-inflicted
fat-body barbs
I cut
volume,
cravings,
and
emotional ties
by living my mantra:
no pop
no sugar
no fries,
no pop
no sugar
no fries

Sugar begets sugar
carbs beget carbs
so tired
of self-inflicted
fat-body barbs
I cut
volume,
cravings,
and
emotional ties
to food
by living my mantra:
no pop
no sugar
no fries

My tears mingle
with yours
yet
every single
memory
that endures
through the grief
and sadness
and regret
ensures
you will always remember
what others might forget

Almost forgotten
are those nights
at the Aristocratic
mouths full of glibness
mesmerized
by
an old man’s ill-fitting
toupee-covered dome
when ashtrays
still adorned
tables
of aquamarine
formica
and chrome
crawling into morning
ignoring mental warnings
that the dramatic
fables
of frantic
youth
failing to convince
had long since
faded
into
the fractured
verse
of the loud
and uncouth

I’m not
self-indulgent
well
at least not
a lot
well
some days
a lot
but at least
I’ve not
forgotten
that what I got
ain’t worth squat
without a little bit
of humility
and a touch of
forethought

Only a slight shaking
betrays my anxious waking.
My mind twists
focusing on failures
on mistakes
on so many chances
squandered
or missed.
I am beset
like a mental marionette
so much so
I forget
in a heartbeat
that love
rides astride regret
and makes obsolete
what thinking alone
cannot beget.

It was never my intention
to have my attention
slowly stolen
by the swollen
rhetoric
of negativity and dissension
so,
no
longer under
any pretension
my view
of the news
has gone from
curiosity
to mistrust
to utter disgust

I measure my integrity
in the time it takes
for clarity
and insight
to shorten the disparity
between my mistakes
and when I make things
right.

Leaves
spinning in the wind
branches
swaying in the breeze
a deciduous tower
a foliage frieze
these stoic survivors
these chlorophyll keys
the rhythm of life
this dancing of trees.

The antithesis of expertise
always ignores or disagrees
it's a disease
that guarantees
those who use
*ur* instead of *your*
and never apostrophes
are most at ease
pronouncing *important*
without the t's