"Excuse me," she said.
"Pardon me," he said.
"Certainly," so said, El Presidente.

I woke up today a zombie
Walking around with dead eyes
Legs dragging through their course
Feeling like dead weight without useful force

I miss a girl
For her hugs and the fact she pitied me
She was warmth to my dead body
But she didn't actually want me
It's been a year and she doesn't know

I thought I had close acquaintances
But they just laugh at me
The familiar clown pacing unknowingly
The hanged man and the fool

Everywhere I go it's always the same
I get up each day hoping for change
But something's gotta snap me out of it
As my happiness is an illusion painting

I go up, and suddenly it's down
Never right, no one understands my frown
Or anything I ever do at all
But no one says anything as they tower over me so tall

The council has decided
Decided a slow sentence
A delusional death
Penitence for a past life's sins

Today, I let you go—
not because it’s easy,
but because I can’t live
in the shadows of almost
and what-if anymore.

I was your spare time,
never your choice.
I carried love like a burden
you never asked for.

But this time,
I choose me.

Let them watch—
I will not shrink to stay wanted.
I will not ache to feel enough.

Because I am.
And I will be more than enough
for someone who sees me clearly.

This is the ending.
But it’s also the return—
to myself.

I used to think that without a partner
I wasn't whole
that I needed someone to complete me
what I didn't realize is that
I am 100% by myself and
a partner should also be 100%
200% combined
I am complete by myself
I don't need someone to make me whole
I am whole
a partner should be an addition
not a completion
I am whole by myself
I am complete

(Maddy’s Music challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
Song: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964)

I’m the harshest critic,
the truest of nonbelievers,
when words of love are used.
Soapy words will not deliver
so please stop trying to be smooth.

Don’t compare me to a summer’s day!
I know that’s from some Broadway play.

Waste not flattery’s rose
praise not my grace,
at least not to my face,
you’re better off praising my clothes.

Forgo sweetness, promise nothing
then you may be onto something
say it, straight up, I won’t faint
trust me, sir, I am no saint.
.
.
A song for this:
Words of love by the Beatles