an adorable little lamb
fur so soft, strong like a ram
who would have known
you were nothing but a sham.
looking back, perhaps you really were
who you were
i thought of you like a wolf in sheep's clothing
but i think we just didn't fit, without us knowing
you were like a lamb, soft in your own right
but i was a dolphin, never destined to see the light
i hope you're flocking in the fields
and that time has made you heal.
don't call it a relationship, but i'm sorry. summer 2018.
I’m the unfinished poem
And you’re the deadline closing in way too soon.
This is not shaping up to be anyone’s best work.
You’re the chair with a faulty seat
And I’m the *** falling through.
Is it my fault for not checking first?
I’m the ambulance sirens wailing outside on your street,
But you’re the silence I need to concentrate.
How are you going to work with this?
You’re the hands typing away
And I’m the keyboard with a missing key.
Or maybe you’re missing a finger?
What about the deadline?
How is this going to work if you’re missing a finger?
Is this what’s making me the ***?
I might be the biggest obstacle you have,
And baby you’re not one for track and field.
Bring your best revision to the table,
I don’t think you’re saving this piece.
Whether this is a creative block or not,
You’re dealing with a failure to write.
you were roses
I was silk
not that either of us was better
than the other
but that maybe we weren’t what
the other needed at the time
You somehow eclipsed all my moments in the sun.
Where upon I became the penumbra in your presence.
The moods you wore left me sodden and confused.
Our times together had become painfully arduous.
He lives in days
I live in decades
His world in constant change
My world struggles to be sane
The master of his ship
Unbothered by the sea
I am the waves, the current
All the chaos underneath
How incompatible are we
Only now I've come to see
He was made for adventure
But he was not made for me
He can tolerate the harshness
He can understand my depth
But tolerance is still not love
Or else he wouldn't have left
Our paces are mismatched
They cannot intertwine
How do I catch up to him
If his pace outruns mine
His seconds are my moments
So little that he forgets
Locked beneath my trenches
Like a buried treasure chest
In this ****
A naive mind
That this might
Licking your lips
For a confection
A bit more
And maybe I'm looking for someone a little more zesty.
Dilemmas of inconsistent reflections
never looking at the same
Where cracks seem like gorges of
incompatible strains upon
But there is a way to not look in
deliberation upon false
Look within each other, not the warped
reflection conflicting our