He was the great regret!
The unfinished melody
going slightly sour in its final notes.
Once meant to be anthemic
now little more than a dirge.
The brokenhearted one that got away;
No tear shed or throat vice gripped
in the absence of you,
but changed none the less.
And make no mistake,
He hurt you and you hurt him.
Sometimes badly.
Sometimes very badly.
Because nothing shatters as completely as a heart,
"My God" say the old men of hearts,
"And not a one the same."
He's sorry.
He never meant to hurt you,
and he knows you didn't either, love.
Don't worry.
We hurt each other, we hack away.
We expose the pulsating and raw innards of each other.
We chip away at each other
Until what is left is the perfect shape.
You made him into her matching set,
And he fixed you for whomever came next.
And seriously, he hopes for the best
because he didn't love you the way you needed but he did love you.
Maybe you loved him, too.
Even if you don't miss one another.
You were broken notes.
It wasn't the right song.
You are the great regret!
The brokenhearted ones that got away.
Or rather, grew up,
up, up and away.

Be the immutable,
immovable
immortal
for as long as is possible.
Push fingers through dirt.
Climb through earth and veins of
rock and root.
Wake, like the dead at judgement.
Wake.
Wake!
Rise like heat
shimmering away above the blacktop.
Killed by distance
or a clever eye.
Leave it all behind.
Rise.
Rise!
Meet the day at the horizon,
grab hold of the sun.
Push it into noon, into night.
Take the empty spot in the sky.
Illuminate the path for others.
Radiate the warmth from inside.
Shine.
Shine!

I used to dream, my old friend,
how I dreamed.
In sleep I was a maker.
A creator.
I built and I drew and I crafted,
instead of living and breathing and consuming.
I was costumed like a fan at convention.
Dressed in the trappings of a sage.
Bad word.
God.
Dressed in the trappings of a God.
I will bow in my own worship before sleep.
Such sleep.
And in sleep I will dream.
Dreaming the dreams that let me do.

Now I mostly just am.
I don't dream. I sleep.
I just...am.
I wonder all the time if it'll change...
See me, friend, wilted on the vine.
Never knowing if I'm worth it.
Bad word.
Matter.
Never knowing if I matter.
I would like to.
I wonder if the world will wait for me.
I hope it will.

One day I will become.
I will be, finally. I will be.
I will stand in the fires of the firmament.
I will rise like the day or the phoenix
and grasp the tools, hammer and chisel,
in my two finished hands
and I will turn,
turn dear friend,
toward the work.
Such important work.
Wrong word.
Dire.
Such dire work to be done
and when I become,
when I become, old friend,
I will lift my fingers, ignite the sun
and get the ****** thing done.

Can you feel the heartbeat?
It's pounding on the door.
It's calling from the empty street.
Screaming for more and more and more.
Can you hear the fire?
It's ripping through my chest.
Branding my skin with the word, "liar".
Consuming the world with no pause, no rest.
Do you smell the rain, love?
Drumming a rhythm on loyal earth.
Beating on sidewalks. Falling from above.
Meeting out new growth and startling birth.
Can you feel my ache, dear?
Rattling injury through my bones,
telling me to rise up against my fear
and claim newly conquered thrones.
Can you hear my past?
It whispers swear words in deepest night.
It tells me I come last
try and try as I might.
Do you know my love, dear?
Dripping devotion saccharin in it's sincerity.
I'm going to try, love, I'll always try to be there.
I want you see my love, crystal in it's clarity.

Look:
I aspire to greatness
But keep tripping in maybes.
And I hope
I'm always hopin'
That I can be honest
That I can be open.
But I'm always closed off,
Always building walls.
And I only want to look tall
But I feel small.
And I don't think there's a god above,
But even if there was
I still think we ****** up.
Listen:
I've stood close enough to me to smell the scared.
I know I'm totally unprepared
I make attempts to be candid
But I walk around feeling branded
By the life and crimes that that man did.
Now I wish wish wish
On oceans of my weak willed ****.
But nothing gets crossed from the list.
But listen, look and beware
Because the more you haunt the more you care
And sooner than later you find them there
You've put them in your path to greatness
As an excuse to fake this
And keep moving around, shaking.
Bones cold, feet quaking
Hands tied from errands unfinished
And sins and wins and all those **** wishes.
Millennial ******* couched in garbage transmission
With nothing to show for years of effort but failed ambition
How have I been awake through all these lost years?
How have I allowed these trivial fears
To own me?
Beware:
It all catches you up, friend.
It finds finds finds you in the end.
But regardless of warnings given
We never ******* listen.
Shush. Pulse quicken.
Bomb's tickin', but our
War of wills has turned toward attrition.
**** it. Good riddance to worthless
Millennial ambition.

I want you to know how to like yourself,
because I never did and I've spent an unhappy lifetime
stuck with me.
I want you to be cautious where I was reckless.
I want you to understand the cost of your actions,
because I never cared for consequences and now...
consequences have become me.
I want you to learn to let people in all the way.
I want you to know how to be honest with yourself.
I've let no one in completely,
not even myself.
You can't be free if you can't be honest,
says the liar.
I want you to know your limits
and to approach them fairly.
I've spent 30 something years thinking
I was the exception to every rule
and now that they're all broken
I have no clue where to go.
I want more for you than I've allowed myself
because I love you
and I've never loved me.
You look at me to teach you these things
but I don't know.
I don't know how, buddy.
If there was a time I could've learned I let it pass.
My ambition, little one, has never equalled my potential.
Please, please if you learn anything from me
let it be from my mistakes.
However, if there was one thing I wish I could share with you,
one thing I think I do that you should,
it would be loving you.
Love you, buddy.
Please.

I feel like a cover of a sad song.
I'm full of someone else's words
because they're better than mine.
Because honest is so ******* hard.
Because honest takes so much time.
I'm six miles away from her childhood home.
2002 miles from where I was born.
He was born in town.
I want to tell him everything I learned from being around.
I've lived in valleys and mountains far above this ground.
I've lived in cities that stretch as far as the eye can see.
I've lived in towns where my last name is had only by me.
You two have it now.
One by birth, the other a vow.

I feel like a bad cover of a great song.
Almost meaningful but also wrong.
What do I do?
I live in terror that my truth is repugnant
to you.
That if you found out or somehow knew.
I get down, you know? I'd feel blue.
I know we've been here. Deja vu.
Oh, love. My love. Many once. Now few.

I'm an earnest cover of your song.
You wrote a masterpiece, love of mine.
You wrote circles around me one word at a time.
I just want you to hear your words
Spoken in my accent and tone.
To see how I love them. Know you're not alone.
How important you are to me, I cannot say.
So I've borrowed your Melody so that I may.
I want you to know, love:
You're the reason I live.
You're the heart of me.
You're who I wanna be.