Someone asked me,
What ever did I see in him,
"He broke your heart,
Left you in two.
He has probably moved on by now,
It's time to focus on you."

I thought to myself,
"Well it's the way his eyes light up when I turn on the screen,
Or the way he sings me to sleep,
As the night pass,
And dawn comes on.

None of you could ever see it,
But I knew deep down,
Somewhere in there,
He did love me.
I don't need to prove it."

You used to be my muse,
For my masterpiece,
Now you're the sweet broken tune,
I sing,
as I fall asleep.

read a thousand love stories,
pause, rest awhile,
read ten thousand more,
and then deny equality.

If you ask for no more than you can give,
you ask for not enough

love is imbalance not an equation,
with a single solution

love has both constants and variable factors

so you write of tribulations and tributes
so you write of lamentations and liftings

you think you are on the same page
perhaps
but do we not all read at different paces?

one of you is solid, one is dotted and dashed
one of you is straight, one is bent, forever curving

when you think you are
in balance
in the same place
in syncopation

perhaps you are for a moment
a calculus of one point on a trajectory

and you say I can only ask for what I give
and am given
and no more,
you have miscalculated

this flux
flummoxed
when the old terrain is flayed flat
but thru the windshield you see the
plateau ends, the geography unknown,

when you see unknown
when you seek the unknown
when you give from places you did not know
you had to give from
when you kiss a hand
for  twenty minutes more than than the one minute you intended
when you give more than is asked
when you ask for more than you can you think you can give
the imbalance is the only concert
the imbalance is the the only constant

how do I know this?
what are my credentials?
you are not a teenage girl,
what matters of what you know of these matters?

I am who I am
a diversity of man and manner
I am past prime and in decline
but this I know
for having failed ten thousand poem times
you must ask for more than one can give

but that's not fair!

silly one, still wretched confused,
even after one hundred
thousand poem times

you must ask of
yourself
more than you can give
and ask no less
demand no less

a body in emotion is not a body in rest
when the imbalance is too great or insufficient
then you write a poem
look in the mirror that cannot lie
and move
on
or
move
off

and begin to ask
yourself
to whom may I give myself
more than is asked
then you have finally asked
the correct solution to the
unsolvable equation

I guess something is better than nothing, maybe we will wait and see
He said I'm the one they call price, I can set you free
the one they go to for advice, on their debauchery
He said nothing is really ever free, free yourself from reality
inside her head a porcelain doll smash up, and torn to shreds
see the broken bones of lovers strewn across her bed
the ****** ***** of the Antichrist, things that don't make any sense
walk with me into the after life, in life and in death

She did something you thought she would never do surprise you
the magic that she spins,trapped me in that web with you
******* on me now and then, but there is no way to win
I'm the one that they come to with the wagges of their sin
knocking at your door soaked in blood wondering if shell let me in
but she knows I can protect her from the demons and darkness within
The parasites and they monsters that crawl under the skin
remember nothing is for free baby, paying waiting to begin

home in the mirror
appearing nearer

but i'm not driving
or even trying
to turn around

i'm burning down

bridges behind me
all I can see

over my shoulder
looking for closure

the colder and closer
i get to the sea.

don't fear the demons
and the midnight monsters
fear the humans
they will not only hurt you
and then ask you what's wrong
but they would **** you
and then they will come to your funeral

449

I died for Beauty—but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room—

He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied—
“And I—for Truth—Themself are One—
We Brethren, are”, He said—

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night—
We talked between the Rooms—
Until the Moss had reached our lips—
And covered up—our names—