I have written you one
hundred and eighty
one poems about stars
and blackberries fat
as thumbs, and your
hands and sweet
plums, because that's
what I do:
word play, cabaret –
but if these are just myths
I perpetuate because I'm
a perpetual liar, believe me
                                            anyway.

From the beginning, and
To the end.

I feel your indignation towards
My existence; your displeasure towards
My presence.

The mockery of your embrace
Holding me tightly within
Your arms of despair.

Moral conceptions offended by
Your deliberate misbehavior.

Your kiss saturates my spirit with vexation,
Attempting to convert my heart with
Poison and bitterness.

We both want change for
Reasons we cannot agree; a scandal
That transgress Love’s institution.

I will neither yield to your disgrace
Nor entertain your dishonor.

Remove me from this circumstance, take away
The memories of your offensive actions.

With my last breath I plead,
Accept me for who I am please, just leave
Me alone.

I'll pray to God,
And I'll pray to Santa Claus -
And to anyone else who has half an ear tuned -
That this Christmas time
I've really only got one thing on my Christmas list,
I've only got one holiday wish,
There's one out there I want,
And that's to be able to spend my Christmas with you.

Another scar to bear
And another pain inside.
Nothing for you to see,
It's hidden behind my eyes,
But I do hurt, and myself I revile,
After these long months of living as a friend.

Victory, Victory, Victoria
So this is what's become of us.
Another scar,
Something my words did not intend,
Neither of us safe from their path.
We both played our part precise,
We, the engineers of our own demise.

You, with waiting to play your cards,
Unfortunately you played it too close, you played too far.
How long is a guy supposed to wait
Before he wises up,
Before he realizes he will not catch the bait?
You tell a guy just want to be friends, twice,
And you know what, he thinks he gets the point.
You built your walls up too high
To try and prevent a painful ending,
And instead we never got to start.

Victory, Victory, Victoria
So this is what's become of us.
Another scar,
Something my words did not intend,
With neither of us safe from their path.
We both played our parts precise,
We, the engineers of our own demise.

It seems as if I paint it all your fault
But we both played our parts.
I waited patient and tried to be
The best friend and what I thought you needed,
And when you mentioned your friend
Thought I was an "interest"ing guy,
I walked into it with my head held high
And both eyes staring open wide,
Refusing to let myself see
What you really did mean.

Victory, in honesty, I could only wait so long, hating to be alone,
And Victory, in honesty, I never thought I'd be singing this song,
Victoria, as things wound and rewrapped themselves
So quickly after I picked out a new course.

And to you again, how long do you
Expect a guy to sit tight and wait?
It's a lonely life to watch a girl live life
Until she finds she is ready to date.
And as for the poems you quoted at me,
Only one was written about the new "she".
If only you'd taken the time to see what
The upload date would surely tell you,
A different story on who the subject
Of that second poem was,
Of who I wrote that other poem for -
Or maybe you prefer now not to know
So neither of us has more reason to hurt
Beyond the fact that
I never showed you that poem.

So Victory, Victory, Victoria
This is what's to become of us.
Yet another scar to bear,
Something from my words I never did intend,
With neither of us safe from their path.
We, the players, acting our parts precise,
We, the engineers, the designers of our own demise.

Is it wrong of me to be and to want to be
Faithful to this girl when we're just starting out?
When we've really yet to begin?

Is it strange? Is there really something so wrong with me?
Have past relationships so scarred me?
Have Pop Culture, media, and trends
Really fought that hard to warp my grasp on reality?
Have they truly convinced me that the way I see
Isn't the way I should be living?
Or is it just blurred vision,
Some social distortion?

I just want to do the right thing, or so I think,
And all I want to do is treat her fair and care
For her the way I believe.
Yet all I see on the TV screen tells me
That - as a male especially - I need to
"Not Put All Of My Eggs In One Basket",
That I SHOULD do this and NOT that
At the same time while I
Talk to this girl and try for that one because...
Because, well... I'm a male,
And that its not right if I'm NOT doing these things,
That there must be something wrong if I'm not, because
If not exactly socially accepted, it seems widely expected.

But that's not me. It's not me.
All it is is social distortion.
I tried it once but it wasn't a fit.
I had too much of a conscience
And I really didn't have the stomach for it.
I left that path feeling ***** and depressed -
Let down for having let my morals down.
I was raised better than that.

All I want to be to this woman is
An upstanding and caring man who
Shows her a never ending flow of loyalty and passion,
Someone she knows will always tell her the truth.
I long to be the one she'll never question except
In rare moments of self-consciousness and doubt,
Caught wondering, "Why does he care for me so much?"
To which I would say -

"Have you ever paused to see
That I adore the ground beneath your feet?
And for all that you don't like being only 5'1" tall,
Let cliche ring, but I find you perfect as you are.
Your nervous little laugh,
The way your cheeks rise,
The shape they make your smile,
And the way that smile reaches and lights
Your brown eyes
When you laugh at something silly I've done."

"It's in the way you hold yourself,
It's in the way you stand,
It's in the way you feel in my arms when we dance.
It's in the way we interact,
The enjoyability when we sit and talk, when we chat.
I could lose myself for days locked in those moments,
Drowning myself in every word you have to say
And in the chance to drink in your eyes.
What you need to hear me say, 'I am a man taken'."

So with all of that said,
Is it so wrong of me to want and to be
Faithful and unstraying from her when
We're just starting out and things have really yet to begin?
Is it really wrong
Or is this just social distortion?

Sometimes words sit screaming inside a chasm
asking, “where are you”,
like a nightmare intimately breezes
from a cage fashioned for anyone
it recognizes first.

On the coldest of nights you can see their pain
in lines that make you close your eyes
for reasons
that you may not want to know.

Running takes you nowhere
when words scream out “I want you”
then entwine themselves
around the flesh
of your pen.