Saturday, July 4, 2009

This Man's Burden pt.1

teetering on the edge of my
a highchair propped up precariously, lifted by
pats on the back and
hastily told stories of
likes and dislikes and
superficial commonality,
looked at her...
her eyes saw but didn’t see,
they were
forging beginnings & endings
before the tale was told....
knew many of her issues
and felt helpless to aid her in defeating her demons,
i know people can be unfair
i know they can hurt,
but my male mental is to keep rolling,
her’s is to lash out....
hurt me...
this time without
unlike many times when
i was the subject of a vent session,
the succession of events that followed,
didn’t help
my bandages from previous wounds still weeping,
just like
her eyes,
I’m afraid....
afraid i cant reach out & touch that
place in her heart,
that touches her mind,
lost to me years ago...
i lost my band during a clash of ideas,
she no longer wore hers soon after....
i evolved a shell of sorts to shield me from those daggers,
i left her out in the cold.. and
i cant trace my steps back 2 her,
i carefully lean back in my highchair, and
wish for a restart button,
That’s not reality escape?
That’s not reality,
we've crossed the thin line between love & hate so many times,
we have its location saved on GPS,
where is the poetry i felt in those lips?
can it be so gone so far away?
almost pleading with my pride to turn aside for
one second,
i just got it back
.. unnatural,
and i know that her way
has to be found by she who walks it
before she can walk back 2 me, fully,
our situation
more like an arrangement of convenience,
a look at my walls reveals
old 12inch vinyl records
posters of
Caribbean islands
graduation pics of my babies,
vicious white houses behind picket fences,
boats acquired for retirement outings,
most of the images are faded..
the air is smoky,
the ceiling is spotted,
the plush carpet
worn to the hardwood floor...
climb off my chair to reach out to
...the figure
...odorous wax
... my legs give