I’ve seen too many faces,
been to too many places.
And now, I wonder what I really know.
But I embraced it. I faced it.
But it’s getting real old,
and I don’t like how cold it’s getting.
The shadows are cast on everything and
the cold breeze is turning into a wind.
Dirt in my eyes, can’t see ****.
Where have you been?
Where did you go? I got lonely
here all on my own.
Fits of rage drove you away
but I’m becoming more silent,
my violence now just a slight whisper,
tickling the back of my throat just a bit.
Can I kiss you?
Can I hug you again?
Do you trust me?
Can you trust me again?
I wouldn’t, and you shouldn’t.
I’m never going to be the innocent,
the lovely, the pure,
one of the beautiful people.
Though you know what they say,
“Can’t see the forest for the trees.”
So please, don’t leave me so soon.
Get a coffee, get a drink,
let’s think together for a second.
And maybe you’ll need a better
boy who holds your hand
in the roller rink, and chuckles and
helps you up when you trip,
and has a grip on himself when
all of this turns to ****.
That’s not me.
I’m not one of those.
One of those you can believe in,
or that I think you deserve,
you lovely, beautiful being.
I’m the ugly and rotten,
Though not easily forgotten,
And though oddly forgiving, I’m forgiving
because I know what it is to be guilty,
wilting people’s leaves before
they’ve even had a chance to breathe.
Left behind a trail of mud,
and in my blood there’s dirt and rust
and lumps the size of walnuts
from all the drugs I have to eat
to get and stay asleep.
But I’m weeping less and less,
and my remorse and shame might be a blessing.
I’ve learned the best thing to do
is open up and live through what
someone like me can do
and change my ways from what I’ve done,
before I can inject more and more pain.
And though I’ve got a long way to go,
and I’m still a coward about it,
at some point I’ll apologize, say sorry for it.
For all the lies and bearing
and lack of caring that was
apparent in almost everything.
But ALMOST everything, because there was a genuine,
generous and loving person somewhere
beneath all of it, who wasn’t
going to try to hurt you,
or destroy you. I didn’t try to.
And I know you remember that loving one,
and you wonder why
he couldn’t stick around long enough
before wandering off into the desert or something,
and getting lost. So,
tell me your soul.
I’ll listen, and you know me,
I’ll make fun of it, but I won’t judge it.
You think you’re toxic? I’m full of it.
I’ve been and seen
all of it. Lived it, felt it, gave it.
Your shadows? I can see past them.
Your coldness? I’ve got a built-in blanket.
And I want to feel you
when the dirt blinds me,
when I can’t see **** and you reach out
and your warmth keeps me grounded.
At least for just a little bit.