Day: August 8, 2015

.
A question mark
rests on your brow.
Your face contorts,
twitches and shakes
alike your voice
asking me, “How?”

How do we know
if this is it?
How do I know
if you’re the one?
How do you know
if I’m content?
How do we know ?
How do we know ?
How do we know ?

And in my dream,
you spoke of doubt.
I felt the fear,
the hate, the spite
rush through my spine
and could not shout.

How do we know
unless we try?
How do I know
your true intent?
How do I know
if you will stay?
How do we know ?
How do we know ?
How do we know ?

Well, it is not,
if you must ask.
Guess, I am not,
if you need ask.
You’ll never be,
so keep asking…

How do we know ?
How do we know…

Living life with you,
like this,
sans commitment…
gives me a dreadful,
chilling sensation
of resentment.

I never try
to mislead you.
Only want
to make it clear
that I need you…
perhaps as much,
but probably more
than you’ll ever admit.

I wear my heart on my sleeve.

How can I help
you understand?
I stand before you,
at your command!
You see right past me
every time
I kneel before you
like a Philistine.
You say you want me
at your side,
but do not qualify
to be your bride.
I bear the pain
of self-restraint
to have this life
that’s all but quaint.

I wear my heart on my sleeve.

You try my patience.
You put me to the test.
You try my patience
and I try my best.
But I tear at the seams.
And, severed, I scream.
Severed we remain
and I endure the aching…

I realized today,
as I pulled my lips away
from yours,
that I…
well I…
never mind.

It’s late
and I think you should know
I think we should go…
we have a long drive home.
A long drive home.

I realized tonight,
sitting at your side my dear,
after five beers:
your cheers and your jeers.

It’s late
and I think you should know
five years is a long time,
but not nearly as long
as the drive home.

I realized just then
as the few words that you said
emblazed
into my head…
never mind.

It’s late
and I think that you know
I think you should go…
you have a long drive home.
A long drive home.

Sounds like a fairy tale
gone bad,
like a lie
has been told,
like a prince charming
gone mad,
like his touch
has grown cold.

Imprisoned to your chambers
with shackles to your heart.
Your prince is now a stranger.
Your luxuries turned sparse.

The glass slippers
belonged to you,
but only
for the night.
Refusing to
return them too,
you brewed
this dreadful sight.

Resume, restart,
simply return…
this all,
you claim to yearn.
Still there you stay
where skies are gray,
meanwhile
the candle burns.

The glass slippers
belonged to you,
your prince
did turn to toad,
your fairy tale
of diamond skies
was paved with
dead-end roads.

Imprisoned to your chambers
with shackles to your heart.
Your prince is now a stranger.
Your luxuries turned sparse.

Resume, restart,
simply return…
this all
you claim to yearn.
Still there you stay
where skies are gray,
meanwhile
the candle…