you asked with silence
"so now what"
and i said
nothing
you asked again
"its over?"
and i still said
nothing

you see its not that easy
and its not that fair
to run back and away
in the same breath
while still crazy
and madly
in love and well
i hate to admit it too
but what do i do
when its true
but unlike you
i can't be untrue
to you or myself

so to answer your
queries more explicitly
though silence is an answer too
but rather unclear
and i speak from experience
and i speak from my heart
and maybe that makes
me a fool of all sorts
and this write is a
foolish act of love too
but haven't i always
been an idiot of sorts
only for you

and so here i go
telling you that if
you are to ever see
our future
the one you dream of
or think about
much like me
and if you really
understand this part of
me

then will you vow
(i don't want a promise)
to never speak false
words that lie
and will you vow
to correct all that
which you lied about
or does it matter to you
so much more
and i could go on and on
but bitterness has been
put aside
for this write
so tell me
will you vow
to never ever walk away
the way you always have
telling me to lose all hope
and going off to a place
you know too far away
from me

will you commit
to gaining back
the trust you lost

and you see
this isn't a lot
this isn't unfair
and this
is
not
negotiable
or a negotiation

these are simple pacts
i've kept to myself
for you
but you lost track
of ones you gave
to me

there's not much time
for you to decide
i've asked for 3 things
and i won't wait long
darling
i'll soon disappear
into the darkness of the night
and the light of the day
and there will then be no way

but here's an answer
it isn't over everyday
and "is it over" shouldn't
be the first question
on our minds
ever
it wasn't on mine
so look up and look out

this really may be
the last time
because from here on
it'll all be silence

i've taken my time
and spoken
and i will not be broken
and from now on
my silence will reply to all
your questions

3 years.

For 3 years,
I've felt you,
Felt your warm welcomes when we met in classes,
And your wondrous stories of helping the masses.

You said you weren't religious nor nice,
But the way you pray others joy says otherwise.

3 years.

3 years spent on memories I keep,
Each one bearing an experience so deep.

It was fine time we gave each other,
As fine as time between spirited brothers.

And each year, we grew closer,
We went through hardships together,
But these 3 years were special,
Tackling the mundane and existential.

Times were either us two working on school work,
Or us two thinking why we work.

Precious indeed are those 3 years,
With everything set in stone,
Yet like all precious jewels,
They fall in the hands of the most cruel of cruels.

We were precious, I bidder,
But from our hands our jewel fell, shattered.

3 years.

3 painful years,
As I watch our smiles turn tears,
And our hearts pierced by spears,
For we chose to shut our ears,
And switched gazes with leers.

I stood frozen badly,
As our story begets tragedy.
Because lady, why tell me,
That after all, we weren't meant to be?

3 years.

3 years, my seed of wrath grew,
In the shape of a tree with no fruit,
And as the bark had wind blew,
I felt bitterness from you, my root.

3 years, right?
For 3 years now, my tree stands upright.

i am not bitter
i’m tired
of seeing headlines flood my timelines
worded similarly with a name substituted in as allegations break

i am not privileged
to be tired of seeing headlines flood my timelines
worded by way of another celebrity letting us down

i do not ignore
the bile headlines that sneak their way into my timelines
how can i?
but i am tired
of feeling let down

i am not blind
to the immense pain caused by a scream, silenced
but i am tired
of seeing the duct tape over her mouth

i wonder
if one day soon
i will no longer be bitter
or tired
of seeing headlines flood my timelines
worded by way of claiming
it was her fault

-rgp

I thank you,
My cold sweet lover.
That you left me in the damp, dark, frigid night.
So on my own, I could learn
The grief of stones.
That solemnly watch,
The world change above them.
And in the end, are gathered in each of your lovely hands,
To be crushed and ground,
Made into the bricks that buttress,
Your humble abode.

mornings--
they aren't always
pretty.

sometimes,
it's grey
like the rain
going over
your head.

at other times,
it's complete
darkness,
like the difficulties
of life.

how ironic it is,
that bitterness
can make it
better.

Darkness appears
When one is not sincere
Nothing but a cloudy scenery
As a result of the ambiguity
Lots of chaos and confusion
Along with frustration
For it is better to be forthright
Instead of putting up with a fight

what is old is new,
when it is discovered by children;
what is life is no longer true,
when a wise man’s words are carelessly spoken;
the age of purpose can only be measured
by the circumstance and pain of its birth;
but to send an olive branch,
flying into a storm created by your own breath;
is to send a message that cannot be accepted,
and to ask for forgiveness that cannot be expected;
for who would send kindness to its death,
except the one who never knew its worth