Much of life is near misses
and it’s not like there’s
a lot of second chances
so letting go and sacrifices
are real misses in the end
strike outs knowing this time
that just passed never returns
some days I just can’t see
the point of pontificating
once again why you gotta act
so damn wise you’re just in
the trenches of living and bleeding
strong deep feelings but there’s no games
there’s no answers just the settling hold
of the uncertainty creeping in totally
moving in while I was busy
he went right past me now white sprinkling
his beard and here his eyes deeper
than when they last looked at me
the face of the years is staring right at me
and regret pulls in just near enough
and I can’t stand to be so painfully clear
the closings are catching up to me
snagging my skin
with wrinkled expressions
my freckled emotions
always uneasy to fit
neatly into something
uneven like my inspiration
not easy to cover up
with a plain foundation
slippery rebellious passions
punitive transgressions
I just won’t bow my head
to being put in a box
so I chafe at the edges
of my epic mistakes
while wishing I could just
be more tame like the rest
but I just can’t seem
to behave the way
I’m expected and I love
and I break all the same
while trying not to hate
the very fear of shame
or the conflict
that just haunts me
with his face
They tell me it goes away
Eventually
they say a lot of things but I’m skeptical
that anyone else can know
the shape of my intentions
from the outside looking in
the question springs
only to meet its death quietly
because of the answer
always birthed within
in the dark
warm moist corner
of my fertile mind
I’m told to make a choice
and state what I want
yet I still continue to fall
flat on my face
I won’t even pretend that
that, right there
held any grace
my boldfaced beliefs
give me away
all my prejudice
staring me back
in the eyes
it’s hard not to squirm
not to want to escape
under the scrutiny
of my most glaring truths
I just can’t even
go there at all
shifting out of place
sync up my pace
it’s night
and the road is long
and all the usual
words are gone
with the comfort that’s lost
to all the qualities
she stresses
I just don’t possess
I’m your beautiful mess
I wish I could crawl away
from the shame
and disappear
completely
if that could
just make it cut
a little less
if only it didn’t gut me
so deeply
if only I could
just
Es bonito, su forma de escribir, este si me incinero el corazón. Felicidades muy bello su capacidad de escribir.
Órale, un buen análisis de lo que pasa en el mundo humano.
Filosa y amarga, nectarina en palabras, su poesía no se enfría Arya aunque no la comamos fría.