since I learned to live without your
involvement... no longer do I need to
"kiss you ass..." my lady fair.
it began slowly then picked up
but it was never like it used to be,
its just not there anymore for me.
the end comes with salutations from friends
who while you were alive paid you no attention
and from a man-of-God, who at the gravesite
wears his only suit stained with the sweat of
other funerals and a clip on tie... who knew
you not while you were alive and will not
ever know your features and how you looked
before... or what you thought, liked, disliked
and by what were you amused and laughed.
the plans I make are for nobody and
are to be shared with nobody... as they
follow no format... have no goals
and are designed to achieve nothing,
a paper transactions or if you prefer
a pen and ink exercise that allows
me to play with all of life's ambiguities.
instead of understanding what
makes me feel a certain way,
you say it's what I've always wanted.
year old images from my mind...
young women who knew me then,
what we said and did to hurt each other,
it was too long ago for me to think
or even say how sorry I am now.
I hid my feelings behind a rough
and tough exterior or a "give a shit"
attitude... and, I let no one know me
nor even myself... I played the role of pimp.
we stand in the general proximity of
those who came before us...
a male and a female who were as bonded
as we are now... seeking advice
and receiving nothing but distance.
If you called me a "mother fucker,"
I would have to agree with you
at least once so far anyway.
I ask myself if anyone would ever be
allowed to get close... to touch...
to feel... or, to touch... and even if
those things happened would that mean
the intimacy was really sincere?
Many never wonder and many find
themselves wasted and hurt often.
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