I made a mistake.
I mistook your affection for love,
Your loneliness for devotion.

I was in the palm of your hand,
A puppet on a string.
I craved your attention
And longed for your warmth.

You led me to believe
That I was the center of your universe.

In a very sad reality,
I was just a speck of dust floating through your galaxy.
You shone with the brilliance of a supernova,
Until you let me down.

You began to crumble under my feet like an old bridge.
Your devotion was obsolete,
Your affection a product of fickle desire.
I finally saw through the thin veil you hid behind.

Your eyes were empty,
Lacking passion and romance.
Your words were worthless,
Like a dim buzz in the distance.

I made the mistake of caring for you,
For getting too caught up.
I look back on this and get chills of regret.
I mistook your tenderness for a true love,
When really it was all in vain.

It is hearing a child sing
Knowing he has health in his heart
No wild card pulled, no joker attached
Knowing we will never be apart.
It is hearing a party giggle
Laughter and hope filling the room
Elderly enjoying life to the end
And a new life kicking in the womb.
It is the gleaming new car at the end of a key
To drive it off one’s drive
It is gratefulness, forgiveness and goodness
Qualities to enrich one’s life.

Unbalanced, they call it
Too much of one and too little of another
A deficiency and an excess
You can't help it, it's chemical, it's beyond your control
And unbalanced is a just description
Because at any moment I feel I could fall off the precipitous line I walk

Poetry soothes me, at other times it moves me
They tell stories like books, plays and movies
It’s personal and public, some hate it, others love it
Some use it to manipulate like puppets on strings
Some sing, some talk, they can run or they can walk
Ink, lead, electric or chalk
From London to New York
It’s a sport and a hobby, or a life’s work
It can make you speculate on what life’s really worth
Painting pictures with scriptures of literature
Read it Monday but it takes till Sunday to hit ya
And make you wonder how could a poet write
So succinctly how I’ve felt my whole **** life
My troubles and strife, my happiness and joy
Look back just like I do when I was a boy
Put into words so well how my first kiss felt
Summer time 99, I remember how the air smelt
Fresh cut grass and baking tarmac
As I turned to walk away the girl I kissed pulled my arm back
She looked at me and said that roses are red
Violets are blue but she like tulips instead
Ever since then poetry’s been stuck in my head
Those words that she said
That’s why I touch paper with lead

pacing moderately down the road
avoiding any contact
maybe it's just me who
constantly worries
or maybe it's their suspicious act

i do not like these people
i don't like how they think
i do not wish to stay forever
i wish i wouldn't overthink

(c.r)