I walked a path so narrow,
I could not keep a balance.

I walked a path so wide and wild,
I lost my way.

I sat,
Head in hands.

I looked up,
And saw my dream ahead.

I followed my path,
Wide enough, I kept balance,
Narrow enough, I kept my way.

I saw my dream,
Growing closer with every step.

I know my path,
It is right for me.

I am not,
Who I want to be.

I am not,
Who you think you see.

I am not,
Yet journey done.

I am not,
Such a simple one.

I am,
A changing thing.

I am,
Soon to take wing.

I am,
A strong soul.

I am,
Willing to take the toll.

Memories with you
are like little shards of glass,
poking and prodding at my heart.
Each ***** a reminder,
of how you used to feel.
I need you,
but you're nowhere to be found.
I miss the way things used to be.
I miss you.

I told you
not to
call again,
but you
don't hear
so well,
our relationship
is over,
face it -
we could
never jell.
We could never
share the dreams,
that lovers often do;
we could never
hold the cup
and
drink the lovers brew.
Chalk it up
to fate,
to obstacles
too strong;
we were in a
tango,
where we,
did not
belong.
The fireworks were brief,
one big spark
and one big
frizzle;
it rained on
our parade,
in one long
constant
drizzle.
We could never
grasp the prize,
that lovers often do;
we always came up
empty,

and in a moment's
time,

we suddenly
were through.

I've been trying
to convince
myself that I
don't
need anyone
at all.

Just sleep,

and long
intervals
of insanity.

Perhaps I peered too closely into the abysmal potholes of other people’s souls
of whom I had no business pilfering through in the first place.
Now I ponder about feelings and memories that do not belong to me
some of which are long forgotten, disregarded, or even irrelevant.
Of this information that I have unearthed and processed, I know not what to do with it.
I am perpetually preoccupied with what lies beneath the surface point, which is what pushes me forward, yet could propel me to my downfall.
I just sit here and anxiously ponder this arcane information I acquiesced
through means not noble to my standard of normal morals.
There is nothing else to do.
For I rest here in the realm of reality.
This is no novel of fiction for me to figure out.
I can’t flip through the pages of people’s plights.
Something like that does not fall within my rights.
I am a mere meddling mortal amongst other mortals.
I am no god who sits proudly upon their plethora of others’ secrets.

I am just another human being.

The cold grey of a January morn,
reflecting my spirit so utterly forlorn.
Was it pain I felt when I watched you leave,
or a chance for freedom and some small reprieve.

Only  Silence remained, as you closed the door,
heard your footsteps fade, like the waves on the shore.
Love never lingered, nor heard my plea,
it could only tear asunder,  in its bid to be free.

Now time owns my soul but you have moved on,
You embrace this new stranger and say he’s the one,
and if ere I wish the clock hands would turn,
to those flames of desire, where our passions did burn.

Now all I claim is this house full of tears,
with its memories and dust marking the years,
and my spirit remains forever bereft ,
of those things that you stole on the day that you left.

© H V Swan