Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Secrets Untold

Before your banishment
I was going to leave you.

You never had me
not all of me.

I called a name into the
blackness one night
She answered.

There was no long line that night.

I didn't forget those days, I didn't care.

I regret only that I am nice.

She didn't only invite me to the play that day in the rain.

I am a hypocrite. And I'm ok with that.

I made the bond that binds us, I wish I could undo it.

I know your game, I decided to play it better than you.

I know you love,
Yes I know you told me
But I know how much
And I know you want me to use it against you

I could have saved you, I chose not to
But told everyone i could not.

I love you dearly
But I plan to leave you behind
and never look back

I know how i got those scars.

It was not my first time.

I would snatch your angel away from you in an instant.
And I've only met you once. It's not personal.

Your angel would leave you if i asked her to.
But I'm to nice. That may change.

You didn't do it. I set you up.

The reason i never liked you
is because for a long time
I thought you were better
Really you're an idiot.

I wish to know your blessing.
But I refuse to deviate
Dumb, I know.

I would be torn between the grace
And the damnnation
Dumb, I know.

I did need help, I lied.

That night, i did what i said i would
and claimed i didnt

I tracked the miles you traversed.
I knew you lied.
I let you.

Your sisters knew.

I know you will suffer.
Your to stubborn not to

I told you the truth
you told me i lied
I laughed it off

Id give it up for you
All of it

I never stopped practicing
Never.

1 comment:

  1. The Nymphs Reply to the Shepherd
    Sir Walter Raleigh


    If all the world and love were young,
    And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
    These pretty pleasures might me move
    To live with thee and be thy love.

    Time drives the flocks from field to fold
    When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
    And Philomel becometh dumb;
    The rest complains of cares to come.

    The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
    To wayward winter reckoning yields;
    A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
    Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

    Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
    Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
    Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten
    In folly ripe, in season rotten.

    Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
    Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
    All these in me no means can move
    To come to thee and be thy love.

    But could youth last and love still breed,
    Had joys no date nor age no need,
    Then these delights my mind might move
    To live with thee and be thy love.

    The Nymphs Reply to the Shepherd
    Sir Walter Raleigh

    ReplyDelete