A burden looms
A curse against the destination
So seemingly attainable
When setting out upon the road
And making first steps
In untrodden snow.

Around each corner
Another barrier rises above the path.
Yet another stalwart mountain.
Cannot one day be easy on the journey?
Each makes the distant goal seem more futile.

Yet the base of the hill gives way
To the persistence of small steps
As surely as the summit does.
The tough slopes seem insurmountable
But have no reply
To the inching progress
Of one foot
Placed
In front
Of the other.

And as rest comes at last upon the crest,
And yet a thousand more peaks still rise in the distance,
This one achieved goes into your pocket.
Credentials against which
All the rest will fall.

A man who wears colonge
Has his scent to atone
Sometime out of need to not feel alone
Or just for the idea of smelling good
The cheap dollar store brand still works
You can't judge a man by his dollar, but his effort.

and i realized today
how much effort it takes
to love me

because when i do not
love myself
you have to love me
enough for two people

You only fail if you fail to try
Keep trying.

© Matthew Harlovic

Self promotion is...
Not necessary when your effort
Is worthy.

I hand-over my heart
Wrap it up in every single thing I do
For it all to come to a screeching halt
Over a few hours... of a few days... of a whole year
Of sweat blood and tears.

All I have left to show:
A few extra pennies
A fuller resume
Warm memories of inspired children
Cold memories of anger and spite
A tepid heart searching for the light

(I wrote this almost a year ago, and I just found it.)

You tell me
that you love me.
I’m not sure
as to whether I should say,
"I love you too,"
or “I know.”
Because I spent my whole childhood
believing in second chances
but I’ve also spent my life
believing that I never deserved them.
That praise was something
to which I would never be entitled.
That other peoples’
time
effort
company
were things I would never
be truly worthy of,
and even calories
were a foreign substance
that I would never deserve.
I have mastered the art
of filling myself
with relics of isolation
and the hopes that nobody
will get too close,
for I will surely drown them.
Suffocate them.
I can not let myself think
that you might actually care about me,
I can not let myself believe
that I am worth what you say I am,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that you got
stuck with me,
and that you allowed yourself
to feel something more for me
than I ever could for myself,
I’m sorry that I dream of you now
and that your name is always
in my thoughts and on my lips,
it is addictive in its toxicity.
For I fear that if I go too long
without saying it,
that it will disappear.
But at the same time
I feel as thought I say it
too often,
but I guess the phrase
"too often"
needs perspective.
I can not let myself believe
that this does not come
with a punchline,
that you do not come with
an ulterior motive,
that the beat my heart skips
and the catch in my breath
are not the product of a joke.
Because my thoughts are screaming
inside of my mind louder than my voice
could ever tell you that I love you too,
and the shrieking and shuddering sobs
that escape my lips
as blood trails like springwater
down my arms
are so quiet, I am amazed the world
cannot hear.
I am amazed that my virtually nonexistent voice
does not ring in the ears
of anybody who stops to listen
but simultaneously,
I am glad.
Glad that nobody can take
the solidity of mental illness in love
away from me.

I spent a big part of my life not doing
things because I had no reason why I ought to,
I mean, so what?
But one day I woke up and found myself
loving you and putting more effort into
our relationship than I've ever done
into anything else.

I mean, I told you I loved you
and your response was, so what?


F.Z.N