Time-line

It's only been a tiny dent in this time-line.
We've only just begun.
And it's hard.
It's hard because we don't talk.
We open our mouths and recite a pre-made dialogue
from yesterday, from last week.
And we never really listen.
It's only been a tiny, minuscule dent in our time-line,
and you're already drifting away from me.

I Can Never

I can never understand why you won't just talk to me.
Why it's so hard for you to tell me of your demons.
Why you lash out at me for wanting to help you.
Why you resent me for loving you.
I can never understand.

The Displacement of Power

Do you ever get tired?

What do you mean?

I mean, does sitting on your high horse ever get tiring?

Huh?

Because I, myself, get tired of looking up at you.

Reflection on a morning chat

Blah dee blah
dee blah
blah
blah.
That's what you hear from me when I take special interest
in you.
away
away
away
I shall go.

What she told me

I don't want you to be a poet. Poets are oftentimes too complex. Striving to understand the world in her own eyes, but never making sense of what's in her heart. I don't want that for you.

Don't be a poet.

Midnight's Cellular Rendez-Vous

This feeling is like unraveled toilet paper streamed across the bathroom floor.
Gathering, it keeps gathering hair, and dust, and specks of last night's visitor.
It trails and trails in and out and in and out, tearing at every stitch, every dotted and slotted break in the line. But, it never breaks completely. It's half torn, half damaged, half dirtied.
But, it only takes one smudge, one imperfection, to insert that desire in you to tear it all away.

Have you ever loved?

A question, in it's simplest form, one answer, one word
Either
Yes or
No.
So they ask me
Have you ever loved?
And I think
And
I pause
And I retrace pain and pleasure
From long nights on the phone
Or waiting by one
at least.
I think of when I used to feel
loved
and
cared for.
I think of when I used to feel
down
and
discarded by
you.
And, all of a sudden this simple question
this simple four-worded question
with a simple mark of questioning
that only requires either
a yes
or a no
has turned into
586+ questions
with no answers
with loops that zig in
zig out
then zip through pink flesh
of heart or mind or e-
-ven pus-
-sy
Zig in the lies
And zig out the hopeless. lonely. nights.
Memories long gone, dug up when you call me.
Monday night. 1am. Needing me...as usual.
to where I don't even know what I was asked anymore.
Then, you remind me.
Have you ever loved?
No.
But, I have.