You! You! You-you! You!
A broken chorus on
display
Amidst a beautiful
charade
If I might put on a
skin so bold
To find, to whom this
honor’s owed?
Fait accompli; Pas de
deux
Tell me why the world
spins so, and
Why it keeps on spinning through?
You! You! You-you!
You!
You-You! You! You-You!
Encroach upon my
pinion
Gnawing me deeply to
the core
You! You! You-You!
You!
Deciphered my vault’s code
Implanting thoughts I’d
never known
You! You! You-You!
You!
…said we could only
ever be and nothing more
Than that of friends,
than that of friends
Yet
still, even now I can remember, your inspiring assent,
That
nod from heaven, even now I can so vividly recall,
How easily came the words to which I spoke: a
last gasp toward a future not meant to be, a brilliant summation draped in a
suffocating plea
“The
best there ever was, the best there’ll ever be”,
oh how we could have had it all, how we could have
had it all
You! You! You-You! You!
…Held
back a secret; you kept inside the truth
You
ignored the passion within; you stifled the premise of that kiss
You
made me then a promise; a vow rendered mute
You
betrayed both our tomorrows, denying hope it’s chance for bliss
Plodding forwards the
day would lose its coherence. Motion
atrophied in conjecture, suspended by the murky visions depressions cast
Disabling freedoms
left me there to beg upon a staring sky, one that left me starving—emaciated
and prepared to die
Many
mirrors would then find me wondering. I bottomed out yet would be left forever replaying
the many why’s and how’s lost amidst an ethos I’ve found to be paper-thin. Yet
still, even in the here and now, as I gaze unto oblivion, try, I must continue,
to cultivate honesty from time’s dust—ever bending for a primer to steer me
clear this jaded scowl I regretfully still trust.
You! You! You-you!
You!
You-You! You! You-You!
Every day and Sunday
Sunday especially
Weeks became the hours
Hours defined the day
And the seasons soon to follow
Would eviscerate the humanity
found in me
You! You! You-you!
You!
You-You! You! You-You!
Tattered, torn, bruised and worn,
A wall was built; a wall was
formed
But
break it would, it would break
As yet, you possess me still
completely; you’re imprinted upon my every waking state
I was left there to
find forgiveness within a shackled skin, bound to tortuous freedom, I knew not
what I would find in likelihoods and manners.
All probabilities and potential withered awry in the daft discoloration
of a destiny denied.
From points untethered,
clustered yet non-sequential, and beneath the bellows of the banshees, as they
wailed their laments aroused, remained alone, self-perpetuating comforts left
to find therein: of misery and sin, misery and sin
And
here, the last of the tread’s been worn,
To the spot and to the core,
Porcelain tears upon love’s blacktop,
A prelude and
continuance of a hoar unstopped
You! You! You-you! You!
You-You! You! You-You!
Every day and Sunday
Sunday especially
You
held back a garden
Because of the potential direction
A single seed could bring
You let the dim lights darken
One by one you turned them off
before the power would be lost
before
the power would be lost
and each year upon
this hour
your regret blooms in full display
where
what-could-have-been in you towers
On this, a silver-lining day
Stop on over to D’Verse,
where Natasha’s been up all throughout the night, serving up some great poetics
for this week’s Open Link Night. I may
be a day late, but certainly not a buck short. Cheers.
