Tenuous


Let us not discuss
In such elaborate detail
The treachery of trust
When it’s ephemeral as lust
So let us never speak of what it might entail

What it never was
For we would choose to let it fail
When wouldn’t turns to does
Defended swiftly with “because”
With proclamations given strong for reasons frail

Words of who we are
Let us pretend we never said
Call we the other’s scar
The we that met, mere avatars
Made for accounts that we can close and put to bed

Let us strangers be
Pretending we were always thus
And I, some other he
You never knew, and couldn’t see
And hang our failures on the tenuous disguise of “so we must”

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Throne


Looking now, it seems as though I’m truly all alone
Within a home I never wanted
More a drone than anyone is
An expression always blank, as if I carved it out of stone

Walking in a world that always says, “You could have flown…”
And with a groan, I simply shamble
Falling prone, within the brambles
Hearing words that seem to guarantee I’ve no way to atone

For anything I’ve done, or for the seeds already sown
And to the bone, I’m feeling empty
Ever thrown, and never gently
As it seems my very world is but the interest on a loan

Looking now it seems there’s no escaping what was shown
Or what is known to be the ending
In the gloam that I’m descending
On a spiral that would lead me to an oubliette or throne

Coward


Speak another word under the lens you colored rose
As if it lends the word of friend before you end it with repose
…For mending and depending, if upending, are disposed
Beneath the fallacy constructed upon how words…

Open doors of meaning, shining light where shadows grow
But in the night you so delight in hidden spite you’d never show
…The right becomes a blight, a silent fight of letting go
And not acknowledging when things have truly soured…

All the points of paragon – now pinnacles of pain
But never cynical, so clinical in sinning it’s insane
…A minuet of bending, an ascent to the inane
Without response for the remains you left devoured…

And bleeding on a field atop a pile of despair
And all the while, you would smile, as if styling your hair
…It’s vile, hard to file, reconcile or repair
The view I had before I saw you were a coward

 

Beholder


In vistas vast where rivers rolled
And paper prayers were sweets they sold
With kindest care, they give a gold
Of wasted worth to crowds who cowered cold

In simple shirts and blanket bare
With hopeful hands and silent stares
With tired tears and dire dares
They bowed and begged to keep a coin of care

In cities sad, an island I
Where crashing crowds would leap to lie
But words are water, depth is dry
So days are drawn, I wait, and watch, but why?

In vistas veiled there’s mounting mist
And gone is good by careless kiss
The prayers are paid, and much is missed
Where sands have swept the treasures of our tribulation’s tryst