Lost Brevity

When you bet against yourself and win, you still lose.  You knew the impossibilities.  You were there, but still, you couldn't turn down the sweet aroma.  It drew you in; a siren song.  Had you known, would you have placed your hands over your ears and screamed?  No, it was a masochistic adventure for the sake of the adventure and now you're licking your wounds.  They were unavoidable and you knew it, so embrace the pain, the ache.  If you hold this ache in your heart and it examine it, you will find it dull, and  though it seems to consume you, there is a hint of sweetness like the metallic odor of a carcass left rotting under the hot sun.  Ponder this ache and cherish it.  There is no lesson, for if given the option, would you have it any other way?  You did not fail and you did not win.  You were rejected but are wise enough to know that this was salvation.

But damn you for the delusional hope that sprang up like a poisonous blossom.  This was sin.  The petals of your feigned ignorance now fall to the floor.  You tried to grab the reigns of another and drive them into your life. You let your hunger turn into a cunning animal and chose to stalk rather than observe in awe from a safe distance.  You stumbled and fumbled for this is a game you have long since forgotten.  Your words could not hide the salivating desperation and any attempt at humor was pitied.  Smitten idiot, did you not feel the change?  Guard your soul and do not let the wound heal without drawing upon the pain for guidance.  Let your future be one of happiness and know that if you walk through life alone you will be in debt to no soul.  Think of the pain you would have inevitably caused, the dry wind of familiarity that would wick away the last drops of this illusion--this brew of chemicals that is nothing but a temporary drive for the continuation of this lost species.  Do not banish the memories, but cling to the hurt more than the joy.  It is not a bitter pill to swallow for you are no longer young.  You have no right to hold a grudge against your fate.  Can you call her name without attaching it to anything but your own self indulgent wishes?  Recognize this and unbind the spell.

How long will this pain last?  How long do you think, or rather, how long do you wish?  Notice your dry eyes and wonder at your narrow brush with what could have been soul crushing.  You waded in the shallows thinking it not wise to plunge, yet you could not help but beg for an invitation.  Count yourself lucky.  Perhaps the short strange dance was everything you wanted.  What more could you have hoped for?  And with self deprecation she called out for an ending.  Know that this pain is nothing but a scratch compared to the jagged gash in her soul.  She can not help but hope, can not fathom the bitterness fading.  Have compassion. Do not tell her you understand, but let your silence speak for itself.   

Mystreason

She's a ninja so stealth like a knife razor edge, but as sharp as she slices I feel no regret.  She's a poet and throws out charisma in song unabashed and untrashed so young and so strong.  She is trouble that bubble behind not to look, but the memory forged like a childhood book.  And she stalks like a lion and darts like a snake and says that she's joking and then backs away.  The mystery solved would ruin the fun because under it all we would shake hands and be done.  But the puzzle has pieces still missing and sins.  The fate has a folly and can't really begin.  I know that I will and I can't so I won't but would if I could tell myself man, just don't! So the circle is drawn in the sand as a line.  A wave rushes in and I'm falling behind.  To cross is forbidden this cross, call it smitten, but posing as ancient when she's barely a kitten.  The span of a depth out of time and why not?  Cuz water flows down to the bed of hard rocks.  The knocking on doors in the night of my thoughts.  I can't give in, but shit yo, why not?  It can't and it won't but I will it to reason.  Friendship is perfect though it sure feels like treason.  When I think of it backward and chill the fuck out, but I look to the future and don't want to find out.  Time and the wave that I ride to the date.  To the island to find it's myself that I hate.  But the glory for me is the story she says.  On this we agree as a knot in the thread.  So thin and so cold in the night as I shiver and thoughts of the gift I will buy just to give her.  A token a scrap just a piece of my pie.  Then she'll cut me out just to lay down and die.