we drank and smiled
pull a card, see what you hit.
hesitation in my eyes, as is usual
because there's this risk, exposure, disclosure
the fatal flaw that will give them a tool
to see inside.
this little game is nothing new
and i've long been a mystery, unwilling
to shed my lizard skin
but to sit here, exposed in an open bar,
inside, no escape. what could i do?
pulling the card was easy, my method
tried and true; shuffle, break, shuffle, draw.
the coincidence of the draw, disarming.
a double-whammy, it's the same card
and
i am numbed.
well? they demand.
rumbling around inside
i reach, the meaning not lost.
the words become hot tears in my mouth
and i read. my apologies for the emotions
foretold and forgiven it's okay
but no it's not. strength does not come
when you cry from the bench.
when my knees bled, isn't that how it happened?
those experiences, did they not strengthen me, but maybe not-maybe just the opposite.
normalize it and we can move forward, but reach first
cover your eyes, while you demand this from others.
disarming and alarmed i struggle for composure.
quickly the moment is lost, unsure of how or who is to
thank, and even now i can't recall
silence maybe? or was it the arrival of the check?
my punishment, a realization
one that cannot be silenced;
it's in the weakness that the
strength forms, in the stone's willingness
to be tossed about with little direction
unknown where it is to land and just
getting polished and ready along the way.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 5:06 AM UTC
we drank and smiled
pull a card, see what you hit.
hesitation in my eyes, as is usual
because there's this risk, exposure, disclosure
the fatal flaw that will give them a tool
to see inside.
this little game is nothing new
and i've long been a mystery, unwilling
to shed my lizard skin
but to sit here, exposed in an open bar,
inside, no escape. what could i do?
pulling the card was easy, my method
tried and true; shuffle, break, shuffle, draw.
the coincidence of the draw, disarming.
a double-whammy, it's the same card
and
i am numbed.
well? they demand.
rumbling around inside
i reach, the meaning not lost.
the words become hot tears in my mouth
and i read. my apologies for the emotions
foretold and forgiven it's okay
but no it's not. strength does not come
when you cry from the bench.
when my knees bled, isn't that how it happened?
those experiences, did they not strengthen me, but maybe not-maybe just the opposite.
normalize it and we can move forward, but reach first
cover your eyes, while you demand this from others.
disarming and alarmed i struggle for composure.
quickly the moment is lost, unsure of how or who is to
thank, and even now i can't recall
silence maybe? or was it the arrival of the check?
my punishment, a realization
one that cannot be silenced;
it's in the weakness that the
strength forms, in the stone's willingness
to be tossed about with little direction
unknown where it is to land and just
getting polished and ready along the way.
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