It doesn’t work, not really
You and I- this thing between us
It’s an addiction I can’t kick
I’m not sure we want to even try
But at least I’m honest about it now
About what it is and why
We’ve tried to keep those words
The ones that come out regrettably
Driving us apart, igniting desire again
As if we were heaps of carbon pyre
But as we both know, we fail, repeatedly
We both crave each other, as soon as we depart
And it grows, exponentially by the seconds
Until we can’t take it, can’t fight it any longer
And we seek out a fix, thoughts racing wild
We become fiery desire in motion, in dire thirst
As if our very lives depended only on- our touch
So, you see, it’ll never work out, never subsides
We’re like each other’s carnivorous habit
This unbreakable tethering between you and I
Some call it a sickness of human construct
Some call it a rare love of soulful connection
I call it a quenching of heaven…theoretically
email me if you wish. poetofthelight5@gmail.com
If you chose to attack me, I reserve the right to presume you don't exist and unworthy of a retort, or I may just write you and your ignorance out of my mind. ;-)
Truth be told~ I’ve no idea what kind of writer or poet I am, how good or how bad really. In this day and age it seems, we sometimes get likes (feel obligated) because we liked someone work/art or message. I’m not keen to that concept, albeit I understand others might be trying to be supportive- within that gray area so as not to seem critical, to someone they perceive as a lessor learner.
I tend to write from past experiences, (not all my own) and some are even new drafts of old versions of writes from a more modern view/voice or understanding. I enjoy being a tad provocative in the sense of stirring up ones emotions. I oft dismiss the mechanics because they tend to hinder realities honest and authentic voices conveying a truth, even if but their own. Reminding others in my message what having a loss feels like, traversing as a frail vessel adrift at on a sea of bitterness- alone or a new love acquired, and usually from a childish perspective. All writers have goals and many have entrenched agenda’s but for me, I have the need to write.
Everything I write comes from my heart. I share them here, amongst those who might relate, might appreciate what is my style, my tone, my tragedy, my perspective, my naked vulnerability as whispers- from the scars on my heart. I like to think of myself as a high-wire balancing ambivert that can slip one way or another on the stretched tether of my heart whereas poetry serves as my balancing rod.
Thank you for reading and your visit. Perhaps we will dance like love birds, to the same intertwining music as we delve in cryptic words on inked pages during our life's…song?
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